Dovahsenil
by Leo Septem
Summary: What Louise wanted was a dragon, the greatest and strongest of all familiars. What she got was not quite what she expected, but exactly what she wanted.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Louise's hand trembled as she slowly raised a spoonful of soup to her lips in order to eat it. She was nervous, she realized. Within the dining hall, where all her peers were taking their dinner, she was the only one who felt such feelings. How could she not? Tomorrow was to be one of the most important days in her life thus far.

Tomorrow was the day of the Springtime Familiar Summoning.

In other words, it was the day when the second year students of the prestigious Tristain Academy of Magic were to summon their very first familiars.

Familiars. They were creatures summoned and contracted by a mage upon achieving a certain level of proficiency in their craft. Depending on the type of familiar summoned, the duties they could accomplish naturally differed, but all familiars possessed the same underlying directive: to serve and protect their master at all costs, even if it was at the risk of their own life.

But more than being servants and guardians, familiars were also something like an indicator. Mages would almost always summon a creature of their own natural elemental affinity, whether they knew what it was or not. For example, wind mages most commonly summoned a bird or other flying creatures, while earth mages summoned wolves, snakes, or other beasts that lived off the earth. Thus, the type of familiar summoned showed what a noble's natural inclinations were as a mage.

More than that, familiars also showed the level of power and talent a mage possessed. Only the most powerful mages summoned the truly amazing familiars, such as dragons or gryphons or manticores. The average mage summoned more ordinary and much less fantastic creatures, like frogs, dogs, or cats. The least talented and most incapable of mages almost always summoned very weak and fragile familiars, such as mice.

And it was for that reason that Louise was so nervous.

She knew very clearly what the other students and teachers thought of her in the Academy. She was, in their eyes, Louise the Zero – the worst mage to have ever graced the halls of the Academy of Magic. Nearly every day she was showered by insults from her peers, told to just quit and go home. Even her family, save for her older sister Cattleya, insisted that she give up on learning magic and just return home where she could be trained in the marital arts in preparation for her marriage to Viscount Wardes instead.

But Louise stubbornly refused to heed her detractors, even if her family was amongst their number. She was a noble, and a noble was a noble because they possessed the power to use magic. To give up on magic was the same as giving up on being a noble, and that was something that she refused to do. She was, after all, Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere, the third daughter of Duke Valliere and Karin the Heavy Wind. That was who she was. Her nobility was her identity. To reject it would be to reject herself, and how could she possibly do that?

That was why, Louise thought to herself with clenched fists, she had to succeed tomorrow. She had to summon something strong. She had to summon something amazing. She had to summon-

"Oh my, if it isn't Louise the Zero."

Louise looked up from her meal and scowled at the person looming over her.

"Kirche," Louise snapped venomously. "What do you want?"

"What? Can't a friend just come by and say hi?" Kirche said with a sly smile on her face. "I should have known expecting some basic courtesy out of a Valliere was a foolish dream."

"Be silent," Louise spat. "You and I are not friends, and we both know it. Now go away if you have nothing else to say."

"Oh, but I do have something else to say," Kirche said, still smiling. "I just wanted to wish you luck on tomorrow's summoning."

One eyebrow twitched on Louise's face, and against her better judgment, she said, "And what's that supposed to mean, Zerbst?"

"It means exactly what I said," Kirche snickered. "Good luck, Louise. Perhaps if you're lucky, you might be able to summon a worm."

Something snapped inside Louise and a strong need to stand up to the girl before her, to defy her, soared within her. She shot up to her feet to better glare up at the much taller Germanian.

"Do not insult me, Zerbst," Louise declared. "Just you wait and see. I'm going to summon an amazing familiar – the _best_ familiar! I'm going to summon a dragon!"


	2. Chapter 1 - The Dragon, Summoned

_Author's Notes:_

_All right, before we begin, just a disclaimer:_

_The Elder Scrolls games are notorious for certain things that make your character in-game incredibly broken, either as bugs, exploits, or purposeful design. The most egregious example I can think of off the top of my head would be the 100% Chameleon enchantment in Oblivion (oh man was that so much fun), which made you completely invisible to everyone, no matter what you did. You could be stabbing them in the face and they wouldn't even know that you're there._

_As such, there are going to be a few changes in this fic on the Elder Scrolls side of things._

_Things that are ridiculously broken (such as the aforementioned 100% Chameleon enchantment or the 100% reduction in magicka cost in Skyrim) are going to be removed, limited, or retooled to be better balanced. _

_There are also several things that are in game that I consider to be purely for gameplay or balance reasons, and not for any legitimate lore-based reasons. For example, being unable to cast magic while on horseback or being unable to use Shouts while falling. These things will also be changed._

_Finally, there are going to be some things in game that I think are too weak given what they are supposed to be or do. Those will probably be strengthened and given appropriate restraints in order to compensate for the buffs, if necessary. Fire Breath will be an example of this. For such a trademark Shout, it is so freaking weak in game considering its damage-to-cooldown ratio. Like, only 90 points of damage on a 100 second cooldown time? Lame. Also, the inability to use it like a stream of fire like the dragons never made sense to me from a lore-based perspective, and it also made me really sad. In fact, that was probably THE biggest gripe I personally had with Skyrim. (A minor thing, I know, but I like the minor stuff in games. Fortunately, I got a mod to remedy that.) That's why the Dragonborn will be able to do exactly that in this fic. Yol Toor Shul!_

_Anyway, I don't expect these changes to negatively impact the story. In fact, I think it'll improve it, but please do leave behind any thoughts and comments, and especially critiques (whether positive or negative), in the reviews as the story progresses. However, please keep it civil. _

_Anyway, that's all. Enjoy!_

_Also, fall damage OP._

**Chapter 1 - The Dragon, Summoned  
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The gently rolling scenery captivated Ysmir as he looked out over the side of the caravan he was riding in. They were passing over a road situated on top of a cliff that overlooked a very large sheer drop. On the opposite side, the mountainous terrain gave way to a thick, verdant forest. They were deep within the Reach, and though he had been here many times before, the beauty of the place was still breathtaking. Indeed, all of Skyrim, despite its harsh and cold nature, was as a whole a wondrous place to behold.

"Beautiful weather we're having today, no?" the man driving the caravan commented idly.

"Aye," Ysmir agreed. "Though days such as these brings its own share of dangers."

"Indeed," the man said gravely. "Prime hunting days for all manner of wild beasts and Forsworn."

From where she sat across from him, sitting beside a much older Nord woman, a little girl no older than five winters reached out and lightly tapped Ysmir's knee.

"Um... Mister Ysmir, sir?" the girl said timidly. "Are those mean Forsworn bad guys going to hurt us again?"

With a smile, Ysmir reached out to the girl and patted her head gently. "Not while I'm here, they're not," he promised reassuringly. The little girl smiled brightly in response.

"Thanks a lot, Mister Ysmir!" the girl said cheerfully.

"Of course, little one," Ysmir said. The woman sitting beside the girl smiled at Ysmir and quietly mouthed her own words of gratitude, to which Ysmir nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yeah," the driver said as he leaned back slightly in a more relaxed position. "But truly, we were lucky that you came along when you did. If not for you..." The man shuddered fearfully. "Anyway, I thank you once more on behalf of my family. We are truly grateful, Sir Dragonborn."

"It was no problem," Ysmir said. "But please, you don't need to call me sir. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't."

"As you say," the man said, nodding respectfully in acknowledgment.

Ysmir looked at the little girl now chatting away happily with her mother and thought back to what happened just two days ago.

It had been a bright and sunny day like this one that Ysmir had stumbled across a terrible scene. As fast as they could, the family with whom he was riding with were fleeing away from a band of Forsworn who had ambushed them. Worse still, their daughter had taken an arrow to her stomach and would die without immediate attention from a skilled healer. Unfortunately, there was no healer around for many miles. Even more unfortunately, the Forsworn were still hot on their heels, and had no intention of letting their prey leave alive.

Fortunately for both problems, Ysmir had crossed paths with them. After a short round of fighting, he successfully killed or drove away the attacking Forsworn, and then he had managed to extract the arrow that was embedded in the girl and healed her with Restoration magic.

As thanks for saving them all, the family had offered to take Ysmir wherever it was that he needed to go – an offer that Ysmir gratefully accepted, considering that they were all headed to the same place.

Having had to use a Shout during the battle, Ysmir had been quickly outed by the family as the Dragonborn. It was not very surprising. At this point of time, Ysmir was quite certain that there was no one in all of Skyrim that did not know of him, the legendary Dragonborn, who had been christened Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, by the famed and mysterious Greybeards. He had accomplished too much to remain an unknown.

"By the way, may I ask for a favor?" Ysmir said to the caravan at large.

"Of course," the driver said. "You don't even need to ask. Just tell me what it is and I'll do it for you."

"Thank you," Ysmir said. "Then my request is this: please do not mention to anyone about me."

"An odd request." The man frowned, but nodded. "But if that's what you want, then we will make no mention of you to anyone."

"I appreciate it," Ysmir said gratefully.

"If I may ask, though," the man said tentatively. "Why do you ask for such a thing? You are Skyrim's hero. Nay, in fact, you are the hero of the entire Empire and all of Tamriel – one whose name can be compared favorably to even Tiber Septim himself! Why, then, do you seek to obscure yourself?"

Ysmir smiled bitterly, and in a quiet voice, he said, "Because I am not a hero."

"Eh?" was all the driver could say before a sudden feral roar cut through the air. All eyes snapped towards the source of the noise: a large sabre cat sprinting towards them from the cover of the forest.

Instantly, and without a word, Ysmir jumped off the caravan to face the beast. Channeling a portion of his magicka into his hands, Ysmir prepared his spells. In his left hand, fire danced brightly and with palpable heat, though they paradoxically did not burn him at all, not even leaving a single scorch mark. In his right hand, dark purple energy swirled around his hand like a liquid.

With a simple thrust of his left hand, Ysmir then sent a ball of fire flying towards the oncoming beast. The creature evaded it with an agile leap to the side, but when the fireball hit the ground, it exploded. The flame from the explosion caught the creature by one of its hind legs, severely impairing its mobility. And that was all Ysmir needed, to slow the swift beast down. Releasing the magicka held in his right hand, Ysmir pulled forth from the realms of Oblivion the shades, the essences, of lesser Daedra and bound them into the form of a ghostly bow, quiver and arrows. These spectral weapons, composed of violet energy that flickered softly like gentle flames, were entirely weightless, to the point that it was near impossible to tell if they truly existed based on heft alone. However, their origins made these into immensely powerful weapons, regardless.

In one fluid motion, Ysmir pulled out a ghostly arrow from its quiver, nocked it to the ethereal bow, and then released it. The arrow flew silently through the air and pierced the sabre cat accurately in its heart, slaying the beast.

Ysmir nocked a second arrow to his bow and fired a second arrow into the creature's brain. While the animal was nowhere near as dangerous as many other things he had to face, it was still a predator that could kill even the Dragonborn, if he proved foolish enough to relax his guard.

Slowly, Ysmir approached the sabre cat and cautiously nudged it with his foot. When the beast did not respond, Ysmir let out a breath, satisfied that the creature was truly dead. Relaxing his nerves, Ysmir released his bow, causing it and the quiver of arrows to dissipate like gas and disappear.

Turning around, Ysmir began walking back to the caravan and the family that waited for him there. He would have to see about borrowing some tools from them to properly harvest the resources that the feline's corpse could provide for them. Their eyes and ground up powder of their canine teeth were potent alchemical ingredients, and their pelt was also a valuable commodity, though Ysmir feared that the burns on its fur would decrease its value. More, to those who knew the appropriate methods and recipes, sabre cat meat could be used for a fairly wide variety of tasty and nutritious, if exotic, dishes.

"Look out behind you, Mister Dragonborn!" the child suddenly screamed.

Instantly, Ysmir whirled around to see another sabre cat rushing towards him, causing him to mentally swear as he summoned a large battleaxe, which, like the bow before it, was of ethereal, violet energies and was of Daedric design. Sabre cats were not animals who were inclined to hunting in pairs. They were usually solitary beasts that only associated with others of its kinds during mating season or when competing for dominance and territory. Seeing as how it was not their mating season and that they were clearly working together, this was a rare happening of sabre cats working in tandem. Rare, but not entirely unheard of.

The sabre cat lunged for Ysmir, but he sidestepped the bestial charge and swung the battleaxe down on its neck. Despite the weightlessness of the weapon, the axe cleaved through the bones, muscles, and thick fur and skin of the beast with untold ease. The beast's head, completely sliced off of its body, flew a few feet before rolling on the ground to a stop.

And that was when the third sabre cat barreled straight into him.

A mass of reddish-brown fur sealed off his vision as the feline, with all the mad fury of a wild beast, tackled Ysmir, robbing him of his breath, and pushing Ysmir and itself off the cliff with the momentum of its charge. Ysmir hissed as he released his summoned battleaxe. Not only was it useless at such a close range, but it was even more so when he was falling through the air, as he had no ground to properly leverage the weapon. Instead, Ysmir strained as he gripped the daggerlike canines of the beast and struggled to keep it from sinking its lethal fangs into his flesh.

The beast snarled with wild rage as it and the Dragonborn continued to free fall. Clenching his teeth, lightning sparked and danced along Ysmir's hands, and the electrical current surged into the beast. The sabre cat released an earsplitting howl of pain that nearly deafened Ysmir, but still it refused to die. In response, Ysmir flooded his spell with even more magicka, increasing the power of the lightning. In response, the sabre cat suddenly went silent. Despite that, it continued to shudder violently for a few moments longer, before finally falling still, its heart having already been stopped by the electricity.

Glancing over his shoulder, Ysmir saw the ground rapidly looming ever closer to him. Calmly, Ysmir inhaled. And then from deep within himself, from his innermost essence, he drew upon power. With that power, he transformed it into Breath. With that Breath, he spoke. He Shouted.

"Feim!"

As soon as the Words of Power left Ysmir's lips, it reached into the realm of nothingness, causing changes to be wrought upon the Nord. His existence became blurred and his body became as pale and ephemeral as a ghost's. At the very instant he had Shouted, he had taken a half-step outside of reality. He could still see and hear and speak, but he could no longer touch nor be touched; feel nor be felt; and he no longer experienced pain or fatigue or any of the other trappings of the physical body. So long as he maintained this form, physical interaction with the world around him was impossible.

In that ghostly state, Ysmir closed his eyes and waited. Soon, his free fall would stop as he landed harmlessly on the earth. As he was now, he was assured that he would receive no damage from the normally life-threatening, if not outright fatal, descent.

And so Ysmir waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Ysmir's eyes flashed open at the oddness of his situation. By now, enough time should have passed for him to have already landed on the ground. That he was still falling was an impossibility. But if that was impossible, then what he was seeing was downright strange.

All around him was a sea of blackness; a thick void in which nothing existed here. No life. No stars. No planets. Nothing. The only thing that was clear for Ysmir to see was his own self and the now dead sabre cat that was falling with him. He was still in his ethereal form, but only for now – he could feel the power of his Thu'um already begin to wane. In just a few seconds... There. It was gone.

As soon as his body returned to its corporeal state, shocking pain surged through him, and then sights flooded his vision.

He saw an endless garden of such surreal beauty that it captivated all of his senses and thoughts. Colors of every hue painted both the earth and sky, and the stars that decorated the heavens were more beauteous than even the greatest jewel. Even if he had viewed this same scenery for an eternity, he knew then and there that he would never grow weary of it, and could blissfully stare at it until the end of time.

He saw vast, uninterrupted plains and forests, in which beasts more enormous and powerful than any he had ever seen before, save for dragons, frolicked freely. But despite their size and strength, they were but simple game for the consummate hunters and predators that prowled this place. This was a place of a never ending hunt, fierce and wild.

He saw a hellish landscape, in which lava flowed freely and spires of molten rock had formed. The place was so hot and inhospitable that no life could have ever possibly existed here. And yet, there was. Things that could be described as demonic existed in this land, both in visage and in strength. Here was a land where only the cruelest and most powerful could survive. A harsh place that brooked no pathetic sentiments, such as kindness, trust, or generosity.

He saw a place of pure darkness, a world totally unpolluted by light. This was a land of only shadows, concealing anything that might have existed there. Yet, despite that, this was not an evil place. Like the presence of a mother, it was comforting, and he felt a link to that place, as if it were trying to call him home.

He saw an infinitely vast library; a repository for seemingly all the knowledge that has and ever will exist. Shelves upon shelves of nameless books bound in a strange black material lined the shelves that stretched on further than the eye could see, and much further than mortal mind could comprehend. It was a darkly foreboding world, in which seas of murky black waters blotted the landscape. From those waters, slimy, black tentacles sprouted up and writhed about like snakes searching for their prey – the foolish who had come searching for wisdom.

And then he saw a world of men and elves. He saw here a land very much like the one he was familiar with. There were wars, and life was always full of uncertainties. Yet, he saw things that were both wondrous and awe-inspiring. He saw the progress of mankind. He saw things that have been achieved that he had never before seen achieved. And he saw... he saw... No, he could not see. Too fast. He was moving to this world far too quickly. At such speeds, he could not comprehend what he was witnessing, for everything had now become a bright blur.

A shining light. A gate. Hard earth and a heavy weight. And then his consciousness gave way to darkness.

**-Scene Break-**

"I, Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere, in the name of the five great Pentagonal Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar!"

Louise's magic flowed out of her wand in a steady stream and coalesced in a space only a few feet away from her. It swirled like a water in a pot being lazily stirred, as the energies that formed the spell took a more defined shape. Large, flat, and oval shaped, what formed before her was the gate that would bring forth her familiar.

The petite, pink-haired mage let out an inaudible sigh of relief, as she felt the eyes of her peers gazing upon her from behind her. She had succeeded in casting the spell. Not that it was any surprise, of course. She was a Valliere, a family with great accomplishments and history to its name. How could she possibly fail such a basic, though admittedly important, spell such as Summon Servant? After all, even if she had a history of failing every one of her spells, and even if all of the other students mocked her as a Zero, she knew that she would succeed.

It wasn't like she had had any doubts. Really.

Louise quickly shook the unnecessary thoughts out of her mind as she eagerly waited for her familiar. Even though she had told Kirche that she would summon a dragon, such a thing was not strictly necessary. All she needed to do was summon something amazing enough to shut Kirche up. Something like a hippogriff, a unicorn, or even something more mundane but still powerful, such as a bear, would be fine. Granted, she still hoped to summon a dragon, but Louise was not honestly expecting to. After all, a dragon was something that only the best of the best of the most talented mages could summon, and even then there was a large factor of luck involved. This was because stronger species of dragons were amongst the most powerful beings in all the world, if not the most powerful. Even the dreaded elves were often said to do all that they could to avoid conflict with grown members of the frightening reptilian species.

On the exceptionally rare occasions when a dragon _was_ summoned, it was typically from the much weaker variants of dragons or related species, such as wyverns. Considering that a familiar was at least partially representative of a mage's power and talent, it was only natural that it would be nigh impossible to be able to summon a creature that was far beyond most mages' capabilities.

Of course, the fact that the best student of her year, the reclusive Tabitha, had summoned a dragon was a source of some jealousy for Louise. But like with her prior train of thoughts, she shoved it aside. Focus not on trying to match Tabitha, Louise thought to herself through gritted teeth, but rather on just making Kirche speechless. That would be enough.

The gate flashed with light then – the telltale sign that the familiar was about to be brought forth. Louise watched with widened eyes and bated breath. A second passed. Then two. Then a mass of fur practically slammed into the grassy earth with such force that Louise wondered if the thing had tried to lunge into the gate that had opened on the other side.

Still, the oddness of such a violent appearance was quickly ignored as Louise practically squealed with excitement when she saw what she had summoned.

It was a large feline of some type that she had never seen before. Its fur was sleek and colored a reddish-brown. Even while it lied there, either unconscious from its rough landing or simply asleep, Louise could see the muscles beneath its thick fur and hide that rippled with the strength only found in wild beasts. Its massive paws were adorned with large claws that Louise was positive could easily rend apart even thick steel armor, and if not, simply crush it with brute strength. Most notable, however, was the strange cat's teeth. Its slightly curved canines were so long that they hung outside of its mouth like a pair of wicked daggers that had been stuck to its mouth. This, Louise realized, was a predator – an incredibly powerful one at that.

It was an excellent familiar.

"Wow," someone from the crowd of students further behind her said quietly. "Did _that_ Louise really summon that thing?"

"Amazing. I guess we can't really call her 'Zero' anymore, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

Louise felt her pride and feeling of accomplishment bloom exponentially. True, she had not summoned a dragon, but this was good enough. Such a strong beast would make a most excellent familiar, and it was certainly impressive enough to make her peers view her in better light.

She couldn't wait to brag about this to Kirche.

But first things first – right now, she needed to finish forming the contract. Raising her wand, Louise approached the beast.

"But... Is it just me or does that animal look like its dead?"

That caused Louise to suddenly freeze up mid-step.

"Hey, you know what? I think you're right."

Frantically, Louise went over to the feline's side and prodded it not too gently.

"No, no, no, no," Louise muttered almost hysterically to herself. "Wake up. Wake up! I order you to wake up!"

Yet, no matter how much Louise poked or pounded the beast with her fists, it remained unmoving. Worse still, the more she hit it, the more she became painfully aware that the creature's warmth was slipping away from its body. Like the person who had spoken said, this animal was, beyond any doubts, dead.

That was when the quiet chuckles and snickering began to rise up from the crowd of students.

"Ha! Who said that we can't call her Zero anymore?"

"Once a Zero, always a Zero!"

Louise's face flushed a bright red as she burned with humiliation. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to have summoned a great familiar which would impress everyone. It was supposed to have been the start of a much better school life for her, one in which she would be respected as the proper mage that she was.

But to summon something that was already dead? Louise groaned. Kirche would never let her live this down.

Surprisingly, the mocking laughter was halted by none other than the teacher in charge of the class, Jean Colbert. It was well known that Professor Colbert was one of the most enthusiastic but genial teachers in the Academy. However, it was also just as well known that he tended to maintain a hands-off approach towards interpersonal relationships between students. Whether this was out of some professional reason, a personal reason, or because he was truly ignorant to the happenings between students, it was not certain. In fact, whenever he did silence the students while they were mocking her, it was typically because they were interrupting class by doing so, rather than coming to the defense of Louise particularly.

Thus, when he spoke up specifically in defense of Louise, it came as somewhat of a shock to all those there.

"Students," Colbert said in a polite tone. "It is not proper noble behavior to laugh at Miss Valliere for summoning a dead familiar, especially when, though it is uncommon, it is not unheard of."

"What do you mean, Professor?" a student asked.

"I mean that it has been recorded many times before when a mage happens to summon his or her familiar just as they are on the verge of being killed," Colbert explained. "Observe the beast's fur, everyone. Notice how it bears the traces of singe marks and is frizzled, and how there is a light smell of burnt flesh and smoke? I'd wager that right before Miss Valliere summoned the creature, this beast was on the receiving end of some mage's lightning spell."

"Then this isn't because I messed up, Professor Colbert?" Louise asked almost cautiously.

"Not at all," Colbert confirmed. "It only means you had a spot of bad luck."

"So... Um..." Louise nervously wrung her hands in front of her. "What should I do now?"

Colbert smiled kindly at the anxious Louise. "It's quite simple. All you need to do is cast Summon Servant again. I'm certain you'll summon a familiar on par, or perhaps even greater than, with what this one would have been, this time."

Louise gulped as she nodded.

Yes, he was right. All she needed to do was summon a familiar again. It's not like summoning something so obviously strong was a onetime incident – a miracle within miracles. No, she could definitely summon another amazing familiar. Definitely.

Holding her wand up in front of her, Louise chanted for the second time the sacred spellwords. "I, Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere, in the name of the five great Pentagonal Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar!"

Nothing.

From her wand, nothing came out. Louise's eyes widened in horror as she waved her wand in a panic, desperately trying to wring out the spell that she just knew was somehow _stuck_ in her wand.

"How peculiar," Colbert murmured thoughtfully. "For Summon Servant to fail? That should only be the case when a familiar has already been summoned or when the mage has run out of Willpower."

"But my first summon is already dead," Louise protested. "And I haven't run out of Willpower yet."

"Precisely," Colbert nodded. "Hence why this is strange. Perhaps I was mistaken in judging that wildcat to be dead? Let me see."

With those words, Colbert walked over to the lying predator cat and knelt down beside it. As one of his hands reached out to the beast's body, it suddenly stirred, causing Colbert to quickly retract his hand.

"Hngh..."

A human groan came from beneath the beast as the mass of fur and muscles shifted. Slowly, the beast was pushed aside from beneath, revealing a man. He had messy light brown hair that was fairly long, as far as males were concerned. His eyes, though bleary and barely open as they were, were a bright, burning gold, wolfish in appearance. His tanned skin indicated of a man who made a career of being outdoors. Given his choice of clothing, he was probably a simple traveler. He wore a very plain and unadorned white shirt with long sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows, and a maroon leather vest over it. His pants were thick and a faded grey-blue, and were covered up to his shins by the boots he wore.

Whoever this man was, he was clearly a commoner. Judging by what Professor Colbert had said, Louise assumed that this was a commoner who had been attacked by the feline, but had been saved by a noble. What other explanation could there be?

More importantly, why was he here?

Seemingly, the physical effort of lifting the beast off of him was too much for the commoner, and he promptly fell unconscious again.

"Remarkable," Colbert said, as if realizing something that Louise could not. She scowled slightly as she waited for the teacher to continue elaborating on just what it was that he found so interesting. "To think that a human was summoned through Summon Servant. I have never even heard of such a thing to be possible. I wonder, was it perhaps because he was unwittingly carried through the gate by that beast? No, if that creature was already dead, then was it the man that was meant to be summoned in the first place? Fascinating, but such a thing is unprecedented. What could this mean?"

For her part, Louise paid almost no heed at all to Colbert's ranting. All she could hear were the laughter of her peers.

"Hahaha! Louise the Zero summoned a commoner!"

"Now that's more like it! Hey, Louise! A commoner is the perfect familiar for you!"

Louise snapped. "Be silent!" she yelled at the others, though this only caused them to laugh even harder. Desperately, pleadingly, she looked towards her teacher. "Professor Colbert! What should I do?"

"Hm... Huh?" Colbert blinked, as he looked up at Louise, breaking out of his deep thoughts. "I'm sorry, what did you say, Miss Valliere?"

"I said, what should I do now?" Louise repeated irritably. "How am I supposed to summon a proper familiar now?"

"Ah, that," Colbert said. He shrugged. "There's no helping it. You'll simply have to contract this man and make him your familiar."

"What!?" Louise shrieked. "But he's just a commoner!"

"True," Colbert nodded. "And in all of recorded history, that is unheard of. However, it is an immutable fact that he was what was brought forth through Summon Servant. This means that, whether you like it or not, he is your familiar. Now, please finish the contract."

"But-"

"Please hurry, Miss Valliere," Colbert said firmly.

Louise let out a strangled noise of frustration from her throat, before sighing in resignation. With the sluggishness of a prisoner being taken to the headsman's block, Louise knelt down beside the unconscious commoner.

"Ooh, that Zerbst is never going to let me live this down," Louise groaned quietly to herself before raising her wand and pointing it at the man. "My name is Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere. Pentagon of the Five Elemental Powers, bless this humble being and make him my familiar."

Louise tapped the man's forehead once. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Light flashed from his left hand, and then the contract was completed.

**-Scene Break-**

Tabitha sat in a far corner of the courtyards, deliberately positioning herself such that she had a full, panoramic view of the entire grounds, even as she continued reading her book on the applications of wind magic on atmospheric changes. In this manner, no one would manage to approach her without her notice. Furthermore, with her own specialty in wind magic, she would easily be able to detect anyone approaching from the air or whilst using the winds to refract the light around themselves in order to become invisible. In other words, although she looked defenseless, she was actually anything but.

Perhaps she was being a little paranoid. After all, it was highly unlikely she would face an attack here at the Academy in the middle of the day. However, a healthy amount of paranoia was never unwise when her mad uncle, who was the king of the most powerful country in Halkeginia, was secretly out to have her killed. Indeed, in such a situation, it was not paranoia in the least. It was a wise cautiousness.

That aside, the book she was reading was truly fascinating, Tabitha thought, as she engrossed herself in the text. It was too bad that her best friend Kirche never could enjoy such interesting and engaging books. Tabitha pursed her lips momentarily as she paused in her reading, thinking instead of her one and only friend. Kirche was by no means an unintelligent girl, but she seemed to prefer to channel her exuberant energy and vitality towards more worldly pursuits – in other words, boys.

Tabitha vaguely wondered if perhaps she could glean Kirche off of her love of love by introducing her to a highly educational and intriguing series of books entitled "Soul of Fire: The Effects of Fire Magic on the Other Elements." It was a three-part series, with each book dedicated to explaining the interaction between fire element magic and the other elements, as the title so obviously suggested. If only Kirche would read such things, she could learn much. For example, did Kirche know that sufficiently strong fire magic could create a low-pressure area by consuming the air, thereby causing the wind to naturally flow towards that area, and then upwards? Of course, it would take an exceptionally powerful square class fire mage to actually apply the factoid in a practical setting, but it was still interesting trivia to know.

No, Tabitha thought and sighed as she flipped a page in her book. Kirche definitely did not know. It was truly a shame too. Kirche possessed such latent talent – talent that was in truth even greater than that of Tabitha herself, as evident from the fact that despite Kirche's carefree nature and callous disregard to any actual studying, she was a mage who was still on par with Tabitha, who had cut her teeth on undertaking dangerous missions purposefully designed by her uncle to get her killed. Such talent would blossom greatly if only she were to dedicate a little more time to her studies.

Tabitha shrugged as she flipped another page in her book. To each her own, she supposed.

Behind Tabitha, she noticed that her familiar suddenly began fidgeting uncomfortably, almost even nervously. The corners of Tabitha's lips turned downwards ever so slightly into a concerned frown.

"What's wrong?" Tabitha asked quietly without turning around, bringing her book slightly upward to cover her mouth as she spoke. "Enemy?"

Sylphid shook her head fearfully and she squeaked pleadingly.

Tabitha glanced around the area with small, surreptitious movements of her head. She then grabbed her staff and cast a spell that created an invisible barrier of wind around them, permitting no sounds from within to escape and be heard. It was only when that was finished that Tabitha told the dragon, "Quietly."

To others, even to Kirche, Tabitha's closest friend, Sylphid was a simple wind dragon. In truth, however, she was far more than that. She was a rhyme dragon – an exceedingly rare species that was thought to be extinct. Due to their scarcity, their scales, which were potent alchemical reagents and ingredients, were insanely difficult and expensive to procure. Had it been known that Sylphid was one of the legendary species, greedy poachers would have come by the dozens in order to try to steal her away – hence the necessity to keep her true nature a secret. Just to be safe, in case any potential poacher was, for whatever reason, familiar with the naming conventions of the rhyme dragons, even her name, Sylphid, was a false one. Her true name was Irukukuu.

Irukukuu squealed nervously. "Big sister, can we leave? Please? Let's run away. As far away as possible. Please."

"Why?" Tabitha said softly.

"I... I don't know," Irukukuu admitted. "I'm just... afraid. So afraid. I... I think I'm going to die if I stay here, big sister. Can we please, please, please leave? Right now?"

"Shh. It'll be fine," Tabitha said reassuringly. "If anything tries to hurt you, I will keep you safe."

Such words did not seem to calm the dragon overmuch, and though she nodded in acquiescence, she never ceased to squirm with an irrepressible anxiety.

**-Scene Break-**

When Ysmir awoke, it was to the sensation of something ridiculously soft underneath him. He opened his eyes and silently looked around him. He was lying on a bed of quality that he had not ever seen before. Not even the wealthiest of Jarls of Skyrim possessed a bed as fine as this. More, the room was decorated with furniture and adornments expensive enough to make even the richest of men and women in Ysmir's homeland to weep with envy.

Sitting at a fine oaken desk in one corner of the room was a girl, who was making scratching sounds as she wrote with quill and paper. She, Ysmir assumed, was the owner of this room. She had long, luxurious pink hair that spoke of the exceptional care that must have been put into it. Her skin was fair, her features soft, and she gave Ysmir the impression of a fragile and delicate flower; the signs of a daughter of a wealthy family who has never had to undertake any physically straining task. Judging from her exceptionally petite size, Ysmir guessed that she was probably around ten or eleven years of age – an age where she was far from fully maturing into a woman, and only barely starting to.

Slowly, Ysmir sat up in the bed and then involuntarily groaned as a soreness of muscles and bones ran through him. The sound attracted the attention of the pink-haired girl, as she set down her quill and turned around.

"Oh, you're finally awake," she scowled. Rising from her seat, she walked over to the bed and pushed Ysmir off the bed with strength that belied her small size. "How long are you planning to stay on my bed?"

"Oof!" Ysmir let out, as he fell to the ground with a painful thud. "What was that for?"

"Hmph," the girl snorted. "You should be grateful that I even let you rest on my bed. Such a thing is something that most commoners like you cannot even begin to dream of."

"A commoner? I see. So you're a noble, then," Ysmir noted, wincing as he stood back up and rolled his shoulders. His body was still sore, but it was not unbearable. He had felt worse after particularly hard training sessions with the Companions of Jorrvaskr. For just this much, a healing spell was not even necessary.

However, that did beg the question of what had happened to him. He remembered being attacked by a trio of sabre cats, and then falling off a sheer cliff with one of them. He vaguely recalled falling for an indeterminable amount of time and seeing sights not of this world, though the specifics of those sights was not something he could recall, for whatever reason. Then the last thing he could recollect was a pain as he finally landed on the ground.

Now he was here, wherever "here" was, with a strange, little girl, who appeared to be angry at him for some unknown reason.

Thinking rationally, he had probably fallen unconscious from the impact of landing on the ground after such a huge fall. He was then, probably, found by this girl, or someone related to her in some way, and brought to this room to recover. Very likely, they had used some kind of Restoration spell or healing potion on him while he slept, judging by how his body was uninjured, barring some muscle soreness, despite the great fall.

"So where am I?" Ysmir asked, as he regained his bearings. "And who are you?"

"You are in the prestigious Tristain Academy of Magic," Louise said with a note of pride. "And I am Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere. Remember that name, because I am your master."

Ysmir blinked. "You are my what?"

"I'm your master," Louise repeated, this time as though the words were a foul food that she had to spit out. "I summoned and contracted you as my familiar. The runes on your left hand are proof of that."

"The runes...?"

Ysmir looked down at his left hand. There, engraved upon the flesh on the back of his hand, were a set of runes of a type he had never seen before. Ysmir frowned with consternation. When had this been branded on him?

"Will you elaborate on that?" Ysmir inquired.

Louise stared at Ysmir for a moment, and then sighed. "Founder Brimir. I must be the only mage who has ever had to explain what being a familiar is to a familiar," Louise grumbled. "Fine. Listen up. I used a spell called Summon Servant to call forth the being that would become my familiar. My servant. Unfortunately, that beast that was _actually_ meant to be my familiar was dead, and you were accidentally brought forth with it when it was summoned. Seeing as how I could not summon another familiar with you still here, I had no choice but to make you my familiar instead."

At that, Ysmir arched his eyebrows in curiosity.

She summoned him, she said.

She _summoned_ him?

Was that even possible?

As far as Ysmir was aware of – and as Archmage of the College of Winterhold, there was a fair amount in the matters of magic that he was aware of – there was no spell, no magic, that could summon a person and transport him across such large distances to another location within the same plane, although spells that could summon beings from the planes of Oblivion were common enough.

Ysmir took a breath in order to calm his mind. Right now, the most important thing was to lay out what he knew thus far in order to determine what else he needed to know.

Firstly, there was no such school called the "Tristain Academy of Magic" in Skyrim. Thus, it must be the case that he was no longer in Skyrim.

Secondly, he had been summoned by this girl, Louise, in order to be her familiar.

Thirdly, strange runes had been branded on the back of his left hand. Judging from what he was told, they were nothing more than the proof of a contract between himself and the petite girl that granted her ownership over him as his master. A contract that, Ysmir noted, he had never agreed to. In that regard, it was more of a slave's brand than anything else.

Ysmir already knew that a familiar was essentially a servant to a mage, often summoned to fight for the mage, so there was no real question related to the second point. What he was curious about was exactly where he was. How far had he been pulled from Skyrim? And also, what magic had been used to summon him in the first place? To do such an amazing feat, it must surely have been some powerful magic he had never heard of before.

"I see..." Ysmir murmured thoughtfully. "You said I was in the Tristain Academy of Magic? What country is that in?"

This time it was Louise's turn to arch an eyebrow. "In Tristain," she said. "Obviously."

Tristain? Ysmir's brows creased and he frowned deeply. Then his eyes widened in shock.

The reason for his surprise was as simple as it was outlandish: There was no country in Tamriel called Tristain. Therefore, he was no longer in Tamriel. He was in another continent.

A glance towards the window showed a clear blue sky with vast grassy lands extending well beyond the grounds and walls of the Academy. Judging from the warm but moderate climate, it was clear that this was not the frozen Atmora nor any of the more tropical, far southern continents. Akavir, possibly? No. That was unlikely. Though contact with the races of Akavir were limited in Tamriel, there was enough to know at least some basics of their culture and architecture. The style of this girl's clothes and the room itself was far different from what the Akaviri used.

Then was he on a continent even further away than any of the known ones? A continent that none in Tamriel had ever even heard of?

Astounding. To think that this petite little girl had pulled him across such amazing distances was simply incredible. He simply _had_ to learn about the magic that was used to accomplish this feat.

Ysmir opened his mouth to ask the girl more questions, but she quickly cut him off as she broke into a tirade.

"Why oh why do I have to be stuck with you?" Louise bemoaned. "Why couldn't I get a dragon as my familiar instead? That strong, powerful cat would have been fine too. Much better than a useless commoner like you. It's not even supposed to be possible to summon humans!" She groaned. "Oh, she's never going to let me live this down."

"Cat?" Ysmir cocked his head. "You mean that sabre cat?"

"Yes! That!" Louise snapped. "That would have been such an amazing familiar. Much, much better than a useless commoner."

At that, one of Ysmir's eyebrows twitched with annoyance. It was true that sabre cats were powerful, ferocious beasts, but to say that he was that much weaker than one, to say that he was a "useless commoner," was a rather insulting blow to his pride as both a Nord and the Dragonborn.

"Well, there's no helping it anymore, I guess," Louise sighed resignedly. "Whatever. You can at least take care of some chores. Go wash my laundry, Familiar."

Ysmir's eyes followed the direction Louise was pointing toward. In the corner of the room was a large basket in which a pile of clothes were dumped in unceremoniously. He looked back at Louise with an entirely unamused stare.

"Little girl," Ysmir said in a cold voice that radiated with tightly focused anger. "That is twice you have insulted me now. Be grateful that I will allow it to pass, as you have the excuse of the immaturity of youth. But hear me, child – do _not _insult me again."

Louise blinked, taken by surprise by the quiet but strong vehemence of Ysmir's words. Then she scowled angrily.

"Now listen here," Louise snapped. "You are my familiar, and I will not have you talk back to me like that!" She paused for a moment, before adding, "And I am not a child! I am sixteen years old; a grown woman!"

Ysmir furrowed his brows as he stared hard at Louise. Certainly, sixteen years was an age where many women in Skyrim and the rest of Tamriel could and often did get married. But this girl? To think that she was of that age was impossible. She still looked entirely like a child. Even if she truly was of age, Ysmir knew that he would never be able to truly bring himself to think of her as a grown woman, not when she still looked like how she did.

Vaguely, almost jokingly, Ysmir wondered if the girl before him had vampire blood in her. Babette had never matured out of her childlike form due to becoming a vampire, after all.

"In any case," Ysmir continued. "I am not your maidservant, little girl. Do not presume that I will permit you to treat me as such."

"What was that?" Louise said furiously. "Dog, for your impudence, you will get no food tomorrow."

Ysmir snorted. "If you say so," he replied sarcastically.

The two glared at each other for a moment, before Louise finally broke the deadlock. Then while she stripped off her clothes and slipped into her bed, Ysmir quietly sat down against the wall and, with ease of long practice, immediately drifted off into sleep.

**-Scene Break-**

So close. So, so, so close. That which she needed, that which she must have, was right there. So close. Oh so very, very close.

She wanted it. She desired it. She needed it.

It called for her.

That, that, that, she needed _that_. No matter what it took, she needed to take it. Take it away from its lonely place. Steal it away. Rescue it. Set it free. Unleash it. Yes, yes, let it take her away. Let it guide her. Move it, rescue it, steal it away. Take it, take it, take it for herself.

No matter what, she would get her Wabbajack, Wabbajack, Wabba-Wabba-Wabbajack.

**-Scene Break-**

The sun beamed down brightly as Ysmir laid sprawled on the grass under the shade of a tree in the corner of the Academy grounds. Set beside him was his traveling bag. Though his body remained relaxed, his mind was anything but. His thoughts were running through his head with such frenzy that he almost felt physically tired just from thinking so much.

Given his circumstances, it was hardly a surprise.

Familiars. Another continent. An unknown system of magic.

Having journeyed the breadth of Skyrim and Solstheim, Ysmir was not unfamiliar with the joys and hardship of exploration. In fact, the amount of his experience had inured him to its discomforts and pains, and he found a certain beauty in being able to seek the most splendid of sights.

Thus, right now, his explorer's blood sang with exhilaration. He was quite probably the very first person from Tamriel to explore this continent, Halkeginia, that he now found himself in. More, this excited his intellectual soul as well, for although he was a warrior, he was also extremely well versed in the Clever Craft. Thus, having a chance to observe and study a completely new school of magic was a thrilling opportunity.

Despite such fantastic opportunities, Ysmir still had his own doubts. These primarily revolved around Louise and his relationship with her.

As he was summoned to be her familiar, so long as he remained here, he would be deemed as the little pink-haired mage's servant by both herself as well as all those within the school. This meant that he would be given the same amount of respect one might give to an old scullery maid.

In the end, that was the only real problem. If he needed to, Ysmir was confident he could escape easily. He had many skills and spells at his disposal that would make a task mere child's play. However, this was a school. As such, this was perhaps the best possible place for him to learn not just about these people's magic, but as well as the land, their history, their culture, and a variety of other relevant topics.

After a short deliberation, Ysmir sat up and nodded to himself. For now, Ysmir decided, he would stay at Louise's side, if only to learn more about this new land and its people and magic. It was for that purpose that Ysmir was eagerly looking forward to accompanying Louise to her first class, after she finished with her breakfast inside the Academy. A sudden thought came to Ysmir then. He would need paper and writing utensils to take notes during the class. It would be best to make certain that he had some, because he was certain that Louise would not give him any, even if he asked. Otherwise he would need to go searching for some before Louise finished eating. Grabbing his large haversack lying on the grass beside him, Ysmir opened it and began checking its contents.

For the most part, the bag was used to carry potions and a few other traveling necessities, such as a portable mortar and pestle, in case he needed to create more potions on the road. It wouldn't be enough to create any of his more elaborate potions, but it was good enough to use when in a pinch. Ysmir carefully took all of them out one by one from their specially constructed pockets that protected them from external impacts, preventing them from breaking. The vast majority of his potions were powerful healing ones, though there were also a few that would restore his magicka as well as several that could cure poisons – vital supplies for any would-be traveler.

Setting those aside, Ysmir continued digging through his bag. As he did, his fingers brushed against something cool and metallic near the bottom of the bag. Gently, he picked it up and took it out.

The item had eight wavy prongs extending out from a thick and flat central core which had a pale green jewel beset in its center. Of all the Daedric artifacts Ysmir possessed, this was the only he had chosen to bring with him.

Azura's Star.

It was not due to its immense value and usefulness that Ysmir had chosen to bring the artifact with him in his journeys. Or more accurately, it was not because of that fact alone. Rather, it was because it was the only Daedric artifact that Ysmir found himself able to conceal and use without apprehension. Some other artifacts, such as Mehrune's Razor, was also easily hidden, but due to the nature of their purpose or the Daedric Lord who created the thing, Ysmir refused to use them. Not anymore, that is.

Ysmir carefully set the Star aside and continued rummaging through his bag. After a little more searching, Ysmir located a few rolls of papers, along with a quill and a sealed inkwell. After giving the inkwell a light shake to check its contents, Ysmir smiled and replaced everything back into the haversack. Perfect. He had everything he needed.

A quiet, rustling sound from behind him caught Ysmir's attention. Turning around, Ysmir saw a girl in a maid's uniform approach him, bearing a tray set with snacks and drinks.

"Hello," the maid said in a friendly manner. "Would you like some tea and cakes?"

"Thank you, but I'm not a student here," Ysmir replied gratefully, secretly wondering what this "tea" thing was.

The maid giggled. "I know that. You're the rumored commoner familiar, aren't you?"

"Is that what they're calling me?" Ysmir asked. Siesta nodded in reply. "I suppose I am, then. My name is Ysmir."

"I'm Siesta," the maid replied courteously. She looked at Ysmir sympathetically. "It must be difficult to be forced to be the familiar of a noble."

"I find it more of a curiosity than anything," Ysmir admitted. He frowned, as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Though, I suppose if that little girl continue to expect me to wash her clothes, I might leave regardless, curiosity be damned."

The maid's eyes went wide. "That's crazy!" she exclaimed. "If you ran away, surely Miss Valliere would use her family's power and influence to capture you, and then you would be severely punished!"

"That's _if_ they managed to catch me," Ysmir quipped back jokingly.

"Ysmir!" Siesta said, now looking positively terrified by Ysmir's words. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

"That I do," Ysmir said, his tone becoming serious due to the frenetic response from the maid. "And I can assure you that catching me is no easy task, not even for the most powerful noble or king."

The maid shook her head with disbelief. "If you truly believe that, you must be a very brave person indeed."

"Thank you," Ysmir replied.

"Or perhaps simply insane."

"Thank you," Ysmir said again, this time more wryly.

Siesta sighed. "Please, Ysmir, take this as a warning: Do not do anything to anger Miss Valliere or the other nobles. Just keep your head down and do as they ask. It's the only way for us commoners to survive."

"I understand," Ysmir nodded. "And I won't."

"Good," Siesta said, letting out a breath of relief. "Goodbye, Ysmir. I'll see you later."

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Farewell."

**-Scene Break-**

She was going to die.

She knew it as surely as she knew that she had wings. If she stayed here, she was going to die. _He_ would kill her. _He_ was not normal. _He_ looked and moved and talked like a human, but she knew the truth. She knew as instinctively as she knew that she could fly that the human was not a mere human. She could smell it. Though he had the shape of a man, he was a dragon. A strong, powerful dragon. A dragon that would consume her. He would eat her scales; he would eat her bones; he would eat her organs; he would devour her so completely that nothing of her would be left behind. Absolutely nothing.

That was what he was. A dragon that feasted on its own kind.

And she was going to die. _He_ would kill her, eat her, destroy her, if she stayed here. She needed to escape as soon and as fast as possible.

But could she?

No matter what she said, her big sister refused to leave. Her big sister wanted to stay, here, where she was going to die.

Should she abandon her? Should she leave her big sister behind, then? No. Even if she would stay alive that way, she couldn't run away without her big sister. Then what could she do? What other option was there?

There was only one choice: Kill him.

There was no other option. She had to kill him before she was killed. She had to kill him to stay alive.

It was kill or be eaten.

**-Scene Break-**

Finally, Ysmir thought with glee, as he followed Louise to her class. It was finally time to learn! Even when he had first begun attending the College of Winterhold as a mage apprentice, Ysmir had never felt as excited as he was now. In hindsight, that might have been because he had been too concerned with acquiring the skills and power necessary to help in his inevitable battle with Alduin as quickly and efficiently as possible. But right now, here in this Halkeginia, he was free from such apocalyptic concerns. As such, he could freely indulge in the simple joy of learning, at whatever pace he chose.

Upon entering the classroom, Ysmir noted that it was almost completely empty. He and Louise were amongst the first ones there. Only a blue-haired girl even more petite than Louise was present. Ysmir nodded with approval upon seeing this. It seemed that Louise was a dedicated student if she took the time to come to class so early. It was an attitude that he, as Archmage of the College, found admirable, and one that he wished many of the apprentices mages back at the College had shared. Ysmir sighed slightly as he recalled the sudden and rapid influx of new apprentices who had sought tutelage at the College purely because of the fact that he, the renowned Dragonborn, was the Archmage. The vast majority of them ended up slacking off and dropping out when they realized that the path of magic was not as easy as they had first believed, as well as when they learned that the Dragonborn they sought to learn from spent most of his time on excursions outside of the College, leaving the vast majority of the day to day operations under the charge of Master Wizard Tolfdir.

The classroom itself was built like an amphitheater, with concentric rows of tables and chairs cascading downwards towards a central platform, where a lectern and a table stood upon it. Louise went over to the front row and sat herself down in the very center. Ysmir followed suit and sat down beside her.

"Hey," Louise said sternly.

"Aye?" Ysmir said quizzically.

"The seats are for nobles only," Louise admonished. "Familiars sit on the ground."

"I refuse," Ysmir said immediately, causing Louise to scowl. Before she could open her mouth to further scold him, he quickly gave her his reasoning. "I can't take notes from the ground."

"Take notes...?" Louise said, the puzzlement in her voice dampening the anger.

"Yes," Ysmir said as he set his bag on the table and withdrew his quill, inkwell, and roll of paper, before setting the bag on the ground beside him and unfurling the piece of parchment. Carefully, he spread it out and smoothed it against the wooden surface of the table. "This will be my first time attending a class for your people's magic. I'm very curious about its details."

"What are you talking about?" Louise exclaimed wildly as Ysmir unstoppered his inkwell. "You're just a commoner! You can't even use magic! Why would you bother taking notes?"

Ysmir perked his head up and looked towards Louise. "Hold. What do you mean by that?"

Louise cocked her head. "What do you mean by what do I mean?"

"What you said just now," Ysmir answered. "What does being a commoner have to do with being unable to use magic?"

The look Louise gave Ysmir was one of such incredulity that he was quite certain that as far as Louise was concerned, he had just told her something as outrageous as telling her that he was her father. A ridiculous notion. He wasn't quite old enough to be her father.

"Only nobles can use magic," Louise finally answered. "That's why they're nobles in the first place."

"Is that due to the expense of learning? Because it takes too much money to learn magic?" Ysmir asked. "Or do you mean that it is truly impossible for commoners to use magic?"

"It's impossible for commoners to use magic," Louise stated firmly. "Nobles are the only ones who can, because we are the direct descendents of Founder Brimir."

"Interesting," Ysmir murmured, as he jotted down a few notes. Already, he had learned of a key difference between these people's school of magic and the ones he was familiar with. In Skyrim, and Tamriel in general, magic was something anyone could learn. The amount of talent and natural aptitude varied from person to person, race to race, of course, and cost of tuition and spell tomes were also a prohibitive factor, but there was no one that could not potentially learn to use magic, barring exceptional circumstances. What made it so that the commoners here in Halkeginia could not use magic? Was not magicka, the source of all magic, present in all things? Or did this mean that the commoners of Halkeginia, for whatever reason, did not have magicka within them? It appeared that more study was needed.

Despite his already burgeoning amount of questions, Ysmire decided to put them on hold for now, as more children began filing into the classroom and taking their seats, talking in friendly, conversational manners with one another as they did. It appeared that the lesson was going to start soon.

However, not all of the students took their seats. One of them, a busty redhead with bronze-colored skin and a body far too shapely for a young girl approached Louise and Ysmir

"Hello, Louise," the redhead said in a tone that was only superficially polite. A thin veneer that hid her condescension. Ysmir recognized the manner of speech. It was the same kind that bullies liked to take while mocking their victims. He had heard its like many times amongst the apprentice mages of the College, as well as amongst children throughout the nine Holds. It seemed that no matter what land he went, bullies were universal.

"What do you want, Kirche?" Louise spat venomously, not even attempting to put up any sort of pretense.

"Oh my. That's pretty rude, you know," Kirche said mockingly. "Can't a friend just come over to say hi?"

"You and I both know that we are _not_ friends, Zerbst," Louise retorted, narrowing her eyes.

"I suppose that's true, Valliere" Kirche said, faking a sigh and looking entirely too amused by Louise's reactions. "Ah, speaking of which, I wanted to get a look at your familiar. Didn't you tell me that you were going to summon the most amazing familiar? I distinctly remember you promising that you would summon a dragon."

Ysmir felt his jaws twitch as he suppressed a smile.

One of Louise's eyes twitched and she opened her mouth to retort, then clenched them shut again with a visible effort. Then, with eyes averted from Kirche, she mumbled out, "... Here."

"Hm?" Kirche leaned in with an entirely too pleased smile. "What did you say? I didn't quite catch that?"

All three of them knew that Kirche was lying and that she had heard Louise perfectly clearly, but the short, pink-haired mage spoke up again anyway.

"I said he's right here," Louise snapped waspishly, jabbing a finger in Ysmir's direction.

Kirche glanced at Ysmir, and her smile broadened a little more widely.

"Truly?" Kirche said, her lips quivering, as she struggled to keep a barely veiled laughter from breaking loose. "How remarkable. I've never seen a dragon that looks like a commoner before. Why, he may be the only one of his kind!"

Well, in a way she wasn't wrong, Ysmir thought with some amusement.

"Just shut up and go away, Zerbst," Louise spat. "Class is starting."

"Sure, sure," Kirche said airily. She glanced one last time at Ysmir and the paper and quill set before him. "At least your familiar can take your notes for you, Louise the Zero." With that, she turned and went back to her own seat, laughing lightly at her little jibe as she did.

"Ooh, that witch!" Louise seethed, as she tried to burn holes into Kirche's retreating back with her glare alone. "I swear I'll get her back one day!"

"You two do not get along, it seems," Ysmir noted idly.

"As if a Valliere would _ever_ get along with a Zerbst," Louise scoffed.

"A family feud?" Ysmir asked.

"The Zerbst are all thieving degenerates," Louise growled. "One of Kirche's ancestors seduced and stole away the wife of my great-great-grandfather. Kirche isn't any better. I bet that there isn't a single boy in this Academy she hasn't slept with, that harlot."

_And I thought the Gray-Manes and the Battle-Borns didn't get along,_ Ysmir thought to himself. _It seems that the Vallieres and the Zerbsts are even worse._

"Oh," was all Ysmir said outwardly.

At the same time, a tall, balding middle-aged man dressed in an entirely plain set of brown robes and carrying a few thick textbooks under one arm and a small bag filled with a few lumpy objects in the other walked into the room.

"Mister Colbert?" one of the students, a blond boy who looked entirely too effeminate in Ysmir's opinion, said quizzically. "What happened to Miss Chevreuse?"

"Miss Chevreuse has taken ill," the man known as Colbert said ruefully. "As such, until she recovers, I will be taking over her classes. Miss Chevreuse has already handed me the lesson plans, so there should be no problems."

The blond boy nodded, satisfied with the answer.

The teacher set down his things on the table and stood behind it, disregarding the lectern. He cleared his throat before speaking in a voice that, while not loud, carried throughout the room.

"Good morning, students," Colbert said with a smile. "First of all, congratulations to you all for successfully summoning a familiar."

At that, Ysmir felt the stares of the entire class aimed at him and Louise, and more than a few snickers arose from the students.

"Now with that said, as we are still very early in the semester, we will be quickly reviewing what we have learned from your first year," Colbert said. "As you all know, nearly all magic can be divided into one of four elements: fire, water, earth, and wind. Only very simple, basic magic, such as the summoning spell, and the long lost Void magic of Founder Brimir are exempt from this rule. Furthermore, within those elements, there are 'sub-elements' that differ greatly from most other spells of that element, such as lightning, which is a wind elemental magic. Also, through the combination of elements, new ones can be formed. For example, using wind and water to form ice, or fire and earth to create lava. Of course, to accomplish such a thing, you must be at least a skilled line class mage. Seeing as how most everyone here is still a dot class mage, we will ignore that particular bit and focus instead on the fundamentals for now."

Ysmir frowned as he quickly scribbled down a few more notes. Intriguing. Unlike in Tamriel, which had multiple schools of magic, these Halkeginians seemed to have only one – technically two, Ysmir corrected himself, if counting their lost Void magic – which was focused entirely on control over the elements. For now, Ysmir decided to tentatively dub their brand of magic as "Elemental Magic." He wrote it down on his paper and underlined it.

However, what did Colbert mean by dot and line class mages? It was obvious from the way he spoke that line class mages were of higher grade than dot classes, which meant that it referred to some kind of ranking system. What other tiers belonged in that system? How far up and down did it go?

_Ah, so many questions,_ Ysmir mused, as he quickly wrote down his thoughts and queries. He would have to take his time later to review his notes, organize his thoughts, and make further investigations. For now, though, Colbert was continuing his lecture.

"Today we will be focusing in on the basics of earth magic – an extremely important element in our daily lives," Colbert said. "It is, after all, through earth magic that we can ensure that a land remains fertile, that crops grow healthily, sturdy homes and castles are built, and other vital tasks can be made possible. As such, we will review the most basic and arguably the most important of earth spells: Transmute."

Ysmir paused briefly in his notes at the name. Transmute. He also knew a spell called Transmute. It was a useful Alteration spell that allowed the mage to change iron to silver to gold. There were not many mages capable of using the spell, as the method of doing so was not very widespread. In all of Skyrim, Ysmir only knew of one person who was capable of using the spell: Himself. He was interested in seeing what Elemental Magic's Transmute was capable of doing, and to see what similarities, if any, there were between his spell and theirs.

Colbert upturned the bag he had brought with him to class, dumping out a handful of pebbles onto the table. Afterward, the balding man took out a wand from his pocket, causing Ysmir to frown in slight confusion.

"Transmute," Colbert chanted, tapping his wand on one of the pebbles.

The stone Colbert cast his spell on seemed to shudder slightly as its surface began to change quickly from its dull, drab grey to a shiny yellow color.

"G-g-g-gold!" Kirche cried out excitedly, unconsciously standing up in her seat, as she practically salivated over the transmutation of simple stone to valuable metal. The greed was cascading off of the girl like slime from a troll. "Is that gold, Mister Colbert?"

Colbert smiled, amused by Kirche's reaction."Unfortunately, it's not. It's simply brass, and a crudely made one at that. Only square class earth mages can transmute gold. Even then it is an enormously difficult process that can leave the mage's Willpower depleted for up to a month." Colbert paused, then added with a small chuckle, "Well, that limitation is what prevents every square class mage out there from becoming exceedingly wealthy with little actual work."

Interesting, Ysmir thought. It appeared there were two large difference between Elemental magic's Transmute and Alteration magic's Transmute: efficiency and versatility.

Although it was true that the Transmutation spell he was aware of was only capable of turning iron to silver to gold, the cost of doing so was far less prohibitive than the Transmute spell these people used. Conversely, their Transmute spell was capable of changing a larger variety of things into a greater number of other substances.

However, for reasons he did not yet understand, it appeared that Willpower, which Ysmir assumed was what these people called magicka, recovered at an incredibly slow rate. For those of Tamriel, even if the entirety of their magicka reserves were expended, it took only a few minutes of rest to restore a substantial portion of their magicka stores, if not all of it.

Another thing that Ysmir found curious was Colbert's decision to use a wand. It was curious to see such an item being used as a conduit for his magic, primarily for two reasons. The first was that staves were generally preferred by mages in Tamriel over wands because of the fact that greater amounts of magic could be stored inside of the larger item. The second was the fact that the wand seemed to be a necessary part of Halkeginian magic.

Typically speaking, staves and wands could only be loaded with a single spell. Through the use of such items, even non-mages could use magic, without expending any of their own magicka. However, that was all they did. Neither staves nor wands were necessary for a mage to truly cast a spell, but a quick glance around the room showed to Ysmir that every student had their own wand with them, except for the blue-haired girl who carried a staff taller than herself. Seeing as how they all had only a single one, Ysmir doubted that these wands were charged with but a single spell. But since it was impossible to add more than that, this suggested that to these people a conduit was necessary to utilize their magic.

That struck Ysmir as quite bothersome. Personally speaking, he had always hated having to lug around a staff, as it always felt unwieldy and got in the way of his other gear, such as his sword and shield.

Well, to each their own, he supposed.

"Now then," Colbert said, looking around the room. "How about we get a volunteer to try demonstrating this spell again? Let's see now... How about you, Miss Valliere?"

A round of terrified gasps sprang up from around the room – a reaction that Ysmir found rather perplexing. What could be so frightening about such a basic spell?

"You can't, Mister Colbert!" Kirche cried out. "Have you any idea what you're saying?"

"Yeah, Mister Colbert!" another girl, this one with golden hair curled into golden drills, exclaimed fearfully. "Have you forgotten that you're talking to Louise the Zero?"

A round of agreement sprang up from all around the classroom. It was then that Colbert's face blanched as he seemed to come to some sort of realization. But as he opened his mouth to speak, Louise cut him off angrily.

"I am not a Zero!" Louise snapped. "And I'm going to prove it!"

"No!" Kirche shrieked. "Don't do it, Louise!"

Ignoring her, Louise snatched up her wand and stormed down to the table where Colbert stood.

"Ah, perhaps it might be best to do this some other time, Miss Valliere?" Colbert said hopefully. "It might be best for you to... well... sit down for now?"

"Nonsense, Mister Colbert," Louise said crisply. "You asked me to demonstrate a simple Transmutation spell, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

The din of chairs and people scrambling filled the room, causing Ysmir to look around with utter confusion as to what these students were doing. For some reason, they had all taken to hiding behind their tables, except for the petite blue-haired girl who had left the room altogether. Ysmir frowned at that. Truancy was not something he approved of.

Confused, Ysmir returned his attention to Louise, who now stood alone on the podium – Colbert had already moved to join his students in hiding behind the nearest table.

Louise waved her wand. She cast her spell. Then an explosion roared.

Taken by surprise, Ysmir could do nothing but get blown backward by the sheer force of the pink-haired girl's spell, causing him to crash directly into the table behind him.

Ysmir groaned as he rubbed the back of his head, his ears ringing rather loudly and his vision filled with nonexistent stars. Slowly, he stood up and looked around to survey the damage.

The tables and chairs in the first two rows had been completely overturn and knocked aside, and despite the near total lack of actual fire from the explosion, soot covered everything near the blast zone. Standing in the same spot she had been when she cast the spell, Louise was completely blackened from head to toe. Very carefully, the other students peeked over their hiding places to check if the situation was now safe.

"That's why I said to not do it," Kirche said exasperatedly. "This is why you're Louise the Zero! Your success rate is zero percent!"

Ysmir blearily looked towards where he had been sitting. His eyes flashed open then as he noticed something that had been utterly destroyed and reduced to ashes. Something very important to him.

"My notes!"

**-Scene Break-**

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Miss Longueville."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Yes, Headmaster Osmond? What is it?"

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Have you sent off the report on the results of the summoning ritual to the Palace?"

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Indeed I have."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Good, good. Then after this year's cataloging of the treasury vault, I can once more relax for the rest of the semester."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Headmaster. I'd be more than happy to do the cataloging myself this year in your place."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"No. Absolutely not. This is something I must do on my own."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"Are you certain, Headmaster? It really would be no trouble at all for me to do it."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"I'm certain."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

"As you wish then, Headmaster."

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

**-Scene Break-**

Ysmir was not one that was wont to complaining. Such an action was one reserved only for little children, not for a grown Nord warrior such as himself, and most certainly not for the Dragonborn.

That was why he didn't complain about his destroyed notes. He mourned for it.

While it was true that he had not written much, considering that this was only his first day of sitting in on the lessons, it was still a very unfortunate loss. At least he had managed to retain the most important bits of his notes in his mind. He would simply have to rewrite it all down on paper again in order to keep from forgetting it.

As he ruminated on his destroyed notes, Ysmir recalled two things particularly vividly. The first was something he had come up with after seeing Colbert demonstrate his school of magic's Transmutation spell. It was a plan to get rich very quickly. The scheme required the cooperation of a Halkeginian mage. By having them transform random pieces of stone into iron, he could then Transmute those into silver then gold. After all, the biggest limitation of his own Transmutation spell was not its magicka cost nor its difficulty, but the simple fact that finding the metals in the first place was so time consuming. Having a Halkeginian mage or two on hand would neatly circumvent that restriction.

Ysmir decided to carefully shelve that idea away in his head for now. When he needed some funds, he could look into carrying out the plan. But right now, he just wanted to learn more.

The second thing was the explosion that had destroyed his notes in the first place. The explosion caused by Louise Valliere. It was a telling reminder that magical power was not related to physical size. For such a large amount of raw power to be stored in the diminutive mage was impressive, even if she seemed incapable of directing it into a true spell. From what he garnered from the comments of her peers, it appeared that said explosion was not a unique incident from the pink-haired girl. Rather, it happened often enough that she had been insultingly dubbed as the "Zero." But seeing as how it appeared to be sensitive point for the little girl, Ysmir had elected to not bring up the matter out of politeness.

"Hey." Louise's voice called out to him, pulling him very briefly out of his thoughts. "Pull out my chair. Since you're just a commoner and can't do anything noteworthy, you should at least be able to do that much."

Ysmir glanced briefly at Louise, then at the chair she was standing inches away from. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Little girl," Ysmir said. "You have two arms perfectly capable of pulling out your own chair. Do not be so lazy. 'Tis a horrid habit to become accustomed to."

A vein bulged in Louise's forehead, as her face flushed a very angry red. "How dare you accuse me of laziness! It's you who is being lazy! You're my familiar; my servant! That means you have to obey and serve me!"

"Aye," Ysmir nodded sagely. "It might be true that through your sorcery I have become your familiar. However, I do not see why that means that I must defer to you, little girl."

"What do you mean by that?" Louise demanded. "You're my familiar, which means you serve me! And stop calling me 'little girl!' You are to address me as master!"

Ysmir crossed his arms, as he looked down at the petite mage. "Perhaps that is how it normally works," Ysmir acquiesced. "But that is only true for you. For me, such line of reasoning holds no weight, little girl."

Louise made a strangled noise of fury from her throat as she seemingly struggled to find the words to properly vent her angry thoughts. In the end, she chose to punish Ysmir. "No food for you for three days!"

Ysmir snorted again and shrugged. "If you say so. Although, I have no need for you to provide me with my own meals." Ysmir glanced at the food on the table – many of which were familiar to him, if only passingly so, while many more were strange and entirely foreign. "You had better eat quickly. Your food is getting cold."

Turning on his heels, Ysmir left Louise behind. As he walked away from her, he noted almost clinically that he could hear Louise's chair scraping against the marble floor as she pulled it out for herself. He did not find any particular satisfaction in having pushed her into taking care of her own menial tasks. It was simply one annoyance taken care of, somewhat akin to swatting a persistent buzzing bug out of the air.

As Ysmir walked towards the large doors that served as both entrance and exit to the dining hall, he couldn't help but slow his pace in order to properly marvel at the splendorous feat of architecture. Every inch of the place seemed to be exquisitely designed and crafted. It was made to such standards that every Jarl of Skyrim would have wept with envy at its beauty, for not even the finest palaces of the Jarls could hope to compete with the magnificence of this room, which, despite its grandness, was still nothing more than a place for children to eat their meals.

Admittedly, this was also in part due to the fact that the Nordic people were not generally inclined towards superfluousness. Rather than beautiful designs, that which was simple, strong, and functional was often much preferred. It was possible that in the rest of Tamriel – most likely amongst the High Elves, who were known for their love of the extravagant – it was possible to find manufactured beauty that rivaled not just this hall, but the rest of the very impressive castle as well. However, it was still remarkable to see such amazing man-made structures.

Vaguely, Ysmir wondered how well it would serve to hold up in a siege, because while this Academy might be beautiful, could it claim a feat like Dragonsreach, which could stand against the full power of a dragon?

He doubted it.

Ysmir left the dining hall and walked down the corridors. For the most part, the hallways were empty, save for the occasional servant cleaning or straggling children who were late for lunch. It took some meandering for Ysmir to finally find his way out of the Academy and into its grassy courtyards, due to the fact that he was still unfamiliar with the castle's inner layout.

Once outside, Ysmir found that there were many other children here already. Tables were set outdoors and most of the students were seated and eating. With a gentle breeze blowing and the sun shining warmly down on them, it was a very relaxing atmosphere.

Walking from table to table with a tray in hand, Siesta was picking up the plates of food that the students had cleared. For a moment, Ysmir considered going over to her and making conversation with her, but then rejected the idea, as he did not wish to disturb her whilst in the midst of her duties. Instead, Ysmir decided to just greet her quickly before finding a nice place to lie down and relax.

With that in mind, Ysmir began walking over to Siesta. However, he stopped when a blond boy linked arm to arm with a brown-haired girl walked breezily past him, nearly bumping into him as they did so. Ysmir frowned for a moment at their departing backs. When he took a step forward to begin walking again, he felt his foot tap onto something.

Looking down, Ysmir saw that a small glass vial of a strange purple liquid was lying on the grass. Ysmir stooped over to pick it up, and then unstoppered the small bottle. Carefully, Ysmir took a quick sniff at its contents. From it, Ysmir could smell the aromatic scent of flowers. A perfume, then. It had probably been dropped by the girl that had passed him by. After capping the vial once more, Ysmir quickly caught up with the couple.

"Hey, you. Girl," Ysmir said, tapping her shoulder to grab her attention. "I think you dropped this."

The pair turned around to look at Ysmir. The girl frowned, as she looked at the perfume in Ysmir's hands. At the same time, the boy beside her suddenly looked very nervous.

"That's not mine," the girl said flatly. "It's probably Montmorency's, judging by the color. Go return it to her, servant."

"Ah, wait," the blond boy said, as he fidgeted uncomfortably. "Perhaps that might not be the best idea."

"Eh? Why is that, Guiche?" the girl said as she cocked her head at the boy. "You know how stingy that girl can be with her things."

"Er... Uh..." Guiche fumbled for his words, causing the girl to narrow her eyes suspiciously at him.

"Guiche." Katie glowered at the boy. She released his arm and placed her hands on her hips. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Of course not, Katie, my love," Guiche said, waving his hand airily. "There's is nothing I would hide from you, the most beautiful rose in the entire Academy."

"Oh? Is that so?"

With dread, Guiche whirled about to face an obviously furious girl with golden hair set into ringlets. She stood before the blond boy with arms crossed and a fearful aura emanating from her.

"Montmorency!" Guiche cried out in terror. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Me?" the blonde girl said tersely. "I was eating alone when I saw someone that I thought was my boyfriend walking across the park. Naturally, since he was with another girl, I dismissed the possibility that he was in fact the one I thought of as my boyfriend."

"Naturally..." Guiche mumbled as cold sweat formed on his brow.

Ysmir glanced around, noticing the crowd that had begun to form around Guiche and the two girls, who were otherwise too preoccupied to realize they had become the center of attention.

"But imagine my surprise when I see a commoner pick up a bottle of perfume that looks remarkably like the kind I make," Montmorency continued, her voice slowly... not increasing in volume, but rather increasing in intensity. "Curious, I decided to move closer to investigate. And if I thought I was surprised before, I was positively shocked when I had gotten close enough to realize that it was indeed my boyfriend who was walking arm in arm with another girl, and had the gall of pretending that my gift to you was not yours."

"M-Montmorency," Guiche stuttered. "I know that when you say it like that it sounds very bad, but I assure you that there's a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

"Really?" Montmorency said icily. "Do explain."

"Um... That is... There was, well, stuff that, uh," Guiche stammered.

"Cad," Montmorency interrupted and slapped Guiche so hard that the sharp sound rang throughout the courtyard. Without another word and without looking back, she spun on her heels and stormed away, the crowd quickly moving to create a clear path for the angry girl.

"Montmorency, wait!" Guiche cried out, one hand outstretched towards the retreating figure of the blonde girl.

"Guiche..."

The single, low utterance of his name was enough for Guiche to freeze in his tracks and slowly turn to the speaker.

"K-Katie," Guiche said.

"How could you do this to me?" the brown-haired girl sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "You're awful!"

A second sound of hand meeting flesh sounded like a clear bell. And then, like the blonde girl before her, Katie walked away from Guiche, leaving him alone in the center of a now quietly chuckling crowd of his peers. They, at least, seemed amused at the blond boy's misfortune.

However, with that Montmorency girl gone, Ysmir wondered what he was supposed to do now with the vial of perfume that was still in his hand.

"Well, I will just return this to you, for now," Ysmir said as he handed the perfume to Guiche, who reacted blankly and simply accepted the phial without thought.

Satisfied that he had returned the dropped item to its rightful owner, Ysmir turned to leave, but was stopped when Guiche called out to him commandingly.

"Stop right there, commoner," he said.

Ysmir stopped mid-stride and turned around to face Guiche again. "Aye?"

"How do you plan on making up for your mistake?" he demanded.

Ysmir blinked, quite certain that he had no idea just what this boy was accusing him of. "My mistake?"

"Yes, your mistake," Guiche said tersely and crossed his arms. "Because of you, two lovely girls have departed from here in tears."

Perplexed, Ysmir cocked his head. "Isn't that your fault for being so obvious?" Ysmir said. "Is it not common sense that if you wish to take a secret mistress, that you take measures in order to conceal the existence of your relationship with her?"

"B-Be silent, commoner!" Guiche said. "It's your fault!"

For a moment, Ysmir could do nothing but stare at the boy. Due to their height difference, Ysmir needed to look down to actually look at the blond boy who was glaring at him. There was a silence between the two that spread out to the rest of the crowd. Then Ysmir finally understood.

"Ah, I see now." Ysmir nodded sagely. "Upset with how your own foolishness has returned to bite you in the ass, you seek to lay the blame on another rather than accepting the consequences of your own actions." He snorted. "Do not be such a child, boy. You are old enough to take responsibility for your own mistakes."

"What did you say?" Guiche snarled. He opened his mouth to no doubt let loose some angry words, but then paused for a moment and closed his mouth. When he opened it again, he spoke with a much smoother eloquence and dignity. "I remember you now. You're Louise's familiar. The commoner familiar. Hmph. Very well, then. Apologize to me, commoner."

"Excuse me?" Ysmir said, unable to believe his ears.

"You heard me," Guiche said. "You have insulted me, but if you apologize, I will show mercy to you. If you do not, then I'm afraid that no matter how much it might inconvenience Louise, I must teach you a lesson."

Ysmir arched an eyebrow. "I see." Ysmir sighed. "I suppose children will be children, but perhaps a small lesson will teach you some maturity. Very well. I will duel with you. When and where?"

Guiche blinked in surprise, and it occurred to Ysmir that the boy had probably never truly expected him to accept to the duel. It was a fair assumption. He was a mage, and most ordinary people would think twice about challenging one to a fight. Magic was, after all, exceptionally powerful and versatile. Under the right circumstances, even a trained and hardened warrior could fall to an apprentice mage.

Fortunately, Ysmir was no ordinary person.

"The Vestri Courtyard," Guiche announced loudly so that not just Ysmir but all those there could hear his voice. "In half an hour. Do not run away, commoner."

With a theatrical flair of his cloak, Guiche turned and left. A good part of those gathered there left with him, while even more dispersed out in all directions, probably to spread the news of the duel that was about to occur. Only a few of the students remained to keep an eye on him. A few students, and Siesta.

"Ysmir!" Siesta hissed, as she stepped towards the Nord. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you mean?" Ysmir cocked his head.

"You're going to get killed!" Siesta shrieked in panic, as she grabbed Ysmir by the shoulders and shook him with an amount of strength that would have made even an Orcish woman proud. "Didn't you promise me that you would not anger the nobles?"

"The way I see it, that boy became angry by himself," Ysmir replied.

Siesta let out a strangled noise of fear, panic, and frustration. "It's still not too late," she said urgently. "You must go to Mister Gramont and apologize to him."

Ysmir snorted. "I think not. I have already accepted the duel. To flee from it now would stain my own honor."

"What does honor matter to a commoner in comparison to their own life?" Siesta pleaded. "Please, Ysmir. I beg you to not follow this foolish course of action."

With a smile, Ysmir put a gentle hand on Siesta's shoulder. "Thank you for your concern. However, I will not change my mind."

"If that's the case, I'll go get Miss Valliere," Siesta said. "I'm certain she'll be able to stop this. Please do not do anything rash until I return with her."

Without waiting for a reply, Siesta turned and bolted, leaving Ysmir to scratch his head and sigh. "All right," Ysmir said, as he looked around at the students. "Will one of you show me to the Vestri Courtyard?"

**-Scene Break-**

It was just as Louise finished eating her meal that the servant girl appeared. Louise did not know her name and was only vaguely familiar with her appearance. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that she had come running straight towards her without regard of propriety, likely due to whatever it was that was causing her to have such a panicked look on her face.

"What do you want?" Louise asked, as the servant girl stopped in front of her, bent over with hands on her knees and wheezing heavily from the physical strain of having sprinted all the way here.

"M-Miss Valliere," the servant girl gasped. "I-It's Ysmir."

At that, Louise's attention perked. Ysmir? Why did this servant know the name of her familiar. No, more importantly, what did she mean?

"What of my familiar?" Louise said. "What has he done now?"

"He's about to duel with Mister Guiche de Gramont," the girl said. At those words, Louise's blood froze. Then they boiled. Her stupid, stupid familiar was doing _what_ now? Oh, when she got her hands on him punishment would be doled out. Assuming he wasn't killed first by that fool, Guiche. "Please, Miss Valliere. You must stop them."

"You're right about that," Louise snapped. She hadn't even given permission to her familiar to fight! "Hurry. Take me to them."

**-Scene Break-**

"Not a bad dueling ground, this Vestri Courtyard," Ysmir murmured to himself while looking around the area.

Situated between two towers on the northern end of the Academy's grounds, the Vestri Courtyard was a flat, grassy place that was perpetually in the shade. With its near total lack of any foliage or decorations, this was a perfect place for a fair fight. Ysmir had little doubt that this place had a history of being used for settling arguments between students in a more violent manner than normal. But here and now, a similar yet different type of conflict was to take place. Standing some distance away from Ysmir and Guiche, who stood roughly twenty paces away from the Nord, was a large group of students forming a loose crowd. They were chattering excitedly amongst themselves. From the bits and pieces Ysmir could hear, they were looking forward to an amusing show of where a noble thrashed about a commoner for a while. Some had even taken bets on how long Ysmir would last.

"Now then, commoner," Guiche said. "This is your last chance. If you fall onto your knees and apologize here and now, for all those here to see, then I will still forgive you."

Ysmir snorted, as he slung off his haversack and placed it on the ground a safe distance away. "Let's get started."

"Very well, then," Guiche said. He pulled out his wand, which was shaped into an artificial rose. He twirled the wand once, causing one petal to drop to the ground. As soon as the petal touched earth, a bronze golem in the likeness of a female warrior, complete with sword, shield, and armor, rose up. "My name is Guiche de Gramont. My runic name is the 'Bronze.' Therefore, for the likes of you, this Valkyrie of mine will be enough."

Ysmir let out a low whistle as he carefully observed the golem – a Valkyrie, as the boy called it. This spell, unlike the magic that had brought him to this foreign land in the first place, was totally unlike the Conjuration school of magic. This was no daedra that had been summoned to fight for the boy. Rather, it was something that the boy had created with his own magic. Most likely, he used earth magic to do so. Briefly, Ysmir theorized about the process of the spell. Guiche had probably used his magic to gather a sufficient amount of earth from the ground, shape them into that form, and then transmuted it into bronze.

"Interesting," Ysmir said. "Then let me test your Valkyrie."

"Oh?" Guiche sneered. "You think you're a match for my beloved Valkyrie, commoner?"

Ysmir smiled. "Yes."

"Then try not to die, commoner!" Guiche said, while at the same time, the Valkyrie charged forward.

Ysmir concentrated his magicka, preparing to cast a spell, but stopped when an earsplitting roar rent the air like thunder. The Valkyrie stopped its movements and everyone looked up. For Ysmir, however, the action came a moment too late. A powerful force collided into him like a boulder, toppling him backwards into the ground. His entire body was then pinned down beneath a crushing weight, almost completely preventing him from moving.

"Oof!" Ysmir grunted, all the air having been knocked out of his body.

His instincts suddenly screamed in warning, and Ysmir obeyed them. Ysmir immediately thrust his head and body as far to the side as he could. The moment after he did so, he felt the intense pain of many sharp teeth biting down on his left shoulder and tear away at his flesh and bone.

"Agh!" Ysmir howled in pain. "Feim Zii!"

In an instant, Ysmir's body turned ethereal and the pain disappeared. The teeth that were biting down on him slipped right through him and snapped shut. Unheeding to the fact that something was pinning him to the ground, Ysmir got up and rose to his feet. He then quickly took a safe distance away from whatever it was that was attacking him, with his left arm dangling uselessly by his side.

Even as Ysmir began using a basic Restoration spell to heal his wounds, breaking the effect of his Shout and returning him to a tangible form in doing so, he looked at just what had ambushed him. The sight of it made Ysmir suck in a breath almost instinctively.

A dragon.

Compared to the dragons that the Dragonborn was familiar with, this one was positively tiny. It was not even half the size of the smallest dragon of Skyrim. Furthermore, its appearance was unusual compared to the normal dragon.

In Skyrim, dragons had two rear legs and wings only. This one had four legs along with its pair of wings. Furthermore, its light blue scales were far unlike the scales of any other dragon he had seen. But most of all, what struck Ysmir as the most strange, was that the dragon was _young._ Ysmir had no positive proof of the dragon's age, but he could not shake the feeling that the dragon was a young one. It was still weak compared to the heights of power that its species could achieve. It was immature; a juvenile.

But that was impossible. Dragons were, by their nature, timeless creatures. They were not like mortal beings in that they did not age, they did not breed, and they did not "die." The only exception to that last rule was when a Dragonborn, such as Ysmir, consumed the dragon's soul. Only then did they truly die.

That meant that this thing could not possibly be a dragon. And yet, Ysmir could sense it. He could feel it in his blood and soul, which sang with the thrill of combat. The creature before him was most certainly a dragon. A dragon unlike any he had ever seen before, and one that defied his definition of dragons, but a dragon nevertheless.

Ysmir grit his teeth together as his wound finished healing. In the wake of his healing spell, the bite mark had completely vanished, his flesh closed together, without even a scar.

"Dragon or not," Ysmir growled, "I will not allow such an attack to pass, lizard."

Within Ysmir's hands, two swords formed of ghostly energies and brought forth from the planes of Oblivion appeared. The moment they did, Ysmir was shocked as his runes lit up and sent unknown magics coursing through his veins. They strengthened him, empowering him beyond his own limits. He could feel it. However, being that he was in the midst of combat, Ysmir ignored the mystery behind the phenomenon. He had no idea why it had happened, and it did not matter. He could figure that out later. For now, he would take it as it is and use it to help slay the beast before him.

Ysmir surged forward with extreme speed that surpassed what humans were normally capable of. It was not quite as immediate as his Whirlwind Sprint, but in return, he had far more maneuverability. Faster than the dragon could react, Ysmir had closed the distance between them and attacked. The first slash marked the dragon's head, causing it to reel its head back and upwards in pain. The second cut aimed upwards for the dragon's now vulnerable neck.

However, the dragon lashed out with its front legs, its claws flashing dangerously. It was largely thanks to the runes empowering his body and senses that Ysmir was able to react and pull back fast enough to dodge the counterattack without injury.

Taking advantage of the lapse in Ysmir's attacks, the dragon flapped its wings once and took off into the air. Spitting out a violent snarl, Ysmir allowed his swords to dissipate. At the same time, his runes ceased to shine, and the physical boost disappeared with it.

Lightning danced in the palm of Ysmir's hands, and one after the other he began hurling bolts of electricity at the flying dragon. However, what this dragon lacked in size compared to the dragons of Skyrim, it more than made up for with its speed. To say that it was fast would be an understatement. It sped through the air so freely and swiftly that it almost left Ysmir feeling dizzy trying to keep his eyes trained on it.

Using that incredible speed, the dragon dodged Ysmir's barrage of lightning and swooped down at him like a thrown spear. Ysmir jumped to the side and rolled on the ground in order to avoid being rammed by several hundreds of pounds of bone and flesh. Having missed, the dragon roared as it arced back upwards into the air in order to avoid a counterattack.

"Very well, dragon," Ysmir growled under his breath. "If that is how you wish to fight, then so be it."

Once more, Ysmir conjured his twin blades and felt his runes activate. With his body and senses again strengthened beyond their normal capabilities, Ysmir was able to easily keep track of the dragon as it flew through the air. Then he waited with narrowed eyes and sharpened nerves for his opportunity.

_There!_ Ysmir thought as the dragon swooped down for another high-speed diving assault.

"Tiid Klo Ul!"

The world around Ysmir suddenly slowed to a crawl, as time itself obeyed the command of Ysmir's Shout. Although he too was affected by the effect of the time slowing Shout, it was to a far less degree than all those around him. Only he was able to move with any real degree of freedom within this space of crawling time. More, with the power of the runes empowering his speed, he was able to move even faster whilst under the effects of the Shout than normal. His speed now was close to that of his regular, unhindered and non-empowered speed.

Thus, once the dragon had reached the nadir of its dive, Ysmir leisurely sidestepped its attack and cut deeply into the base of its left wing. The ethereal wing easily sheared through the scales, bones, and muscles. With time slowed, Ysmir was able to see the wing ever so slowly fly away from the dragon's body while a fount of blood followed after it.

Knowing that the effects of his Shout was nearly over, Ysmir calmly took two steps away from the dragon. Once time resumed its normal pace, the dragon in turn suddenly accelerated before Ysmir's eyes and crashed and slid along the ground for several meters. The severed wing flew off quickly and landed with a thud whose sound was drowned out by the pained shriek of the dragon.

"This is the end, dragon," Ysmir growled as he walked towards the felled reptile, his swords bared and ready.

The dragon squealed its panic and its eyes shone with fear, as it stood up and tried to run away. But it was too injured, too slow, to make any real attempt at doing so. It would not be able to escape before Ysmir cut it down. However, a sudden flurry of ice spears flew down from above and impaled the ground in front of Ysmir. They were a warning shot, Ysmir immediately realized, and he stopped on the spot.

Looking up, Ysmir saw the petite blue-haired girl he had seen in the classroom descend from the air like a fairy. She landed in front of the dragon and faced Ysmir, her staff pointed threateningly at the older man. This caused Ysmir to scowl.

"What are you doing, little girl?" Ysmir growled warningly.

"My familiar," the girl said calmly, slightly jerking her head back towards the dragon without ever taking her gaze off of Ysmir.

"That's your familiar?" Ysmir said. The girl confirmed with a curt nod. "Your familiar tried to kill me."

The girl cocked her head very slightly, and then lowered her staff. "Sorry."

"You think a mere apology is enough for an attack on my life?" Ysmir demanded.

In response, the girl pointed at the severed wing that laid on the ground not far from the dragon. "Enough."

Ysmir glanced at the wing and then at the girl and her dragon, which was quivering, and still bleeding heavily, behind her. With a sigh, Ysmir lowered his fighting stance and released his swords. "Very well. I will let your dragon go this time. However, if it attacks me again, I will show no mercy."

"Acceptable," the girl nodded. She pointed her staff at the severed wing and cast a spell, causing it to levitate towards her. She cast the same spell on the dragon, causing it to rise up a few inches off the ground. With those two in tow, the girl then walked away and left the courtyard. Ysmir watched them go, and noticed how no one was looking at them. Rather, they were all gawking at Ysmir himself.

"Now then," Ysmir said, turning to face Guiche, whose eyes widened upon becoming the focus of Ysmir's attention. "About that duel..."

Guiche promptly fainted on the spot.

**-Scene Break-**

One of the things that Kirche prided herself on the most was her superb ability to read men. Their thoughts, their feelings, their desires, their potential – Kirche excelled at being able to discern all of them. Most of the time, she used this skill to indulge in... pleasurable activities. Indeed, doing so had helped her hone that very same skill.

That was why she was metaphorically kicking herself for her utter failure in properly reading Louise's fam-... No, his name was Ysmir, was it not?

In hindsight, Kirche blamed her oversight on the fact that she had considered Ysmir to be a mere commoner, and was thus beneath her notice. Now, however, she saw clearly who he was.

Within his golden eyes, there was strength unmatched by any man that she had ever met. More, there was ferocity there too. It was wild and untamed, yet tightly focused. It gave Kirche the impression that rather than being a monster with only a veneer of humanity, Ysmir was a man of monsterlike strength that used his iron will in order to properly control and direct that power. The epitome of a man.

Kirche licked her lips in excitement, as she watched Louise approach Ysmir and after a few words walk away with him from the courtyard.

This was good. Very good. Never before had she seen such a prize of a man. He was absolutely ideal. So no matter what it took, Kirche vowed to conquer him.

**-Scene Break-**

When Louise had arrived at the Vestri Courtyard, led by the maid, she had arrived just in time to see him be suddenly attacked by Tabitha's dragon, Sylphid. At first, she had screamed in panic at the sight of her familiar being eaten alive by the dragon. Then she screamed in shock when her familiar turned into a ghost and literally walked through and out of the dragon. Then when he began casting _magic_ of all things... well, by that time her throat was too hoarse to scream any further.

Magic. Her familiar could use magic.

In the space of only a few minutes, he had demonstrated unnatural swordsmanship skills, incredible physical abilities, and feats of magic that would leave even square class mages weeping with jealousy. The way he so freely sent out those bolts of lightning was something that few other mages could match.

But there were several inconsistencies in the fight that left Louise feeling perplexed. The way he had turned into a ghost was one. That was no spell. There was not a single spell in existence that could allow for such a thing. Besides, ghosts did not truly exist. Furthermore, he had cast magic without wand or staff. Such a thing was impossible for humans. So how was it that he could do it? It's not like he was actually an elf in disguise... right? And, though she could not prove it, something was not quite right when he had severed Sylphid's wing. For some reason, he had moved too smoothly, reacted too easily, despite the fact that Sylphid was a wind dragon, a species renowned for their ridiculous speed. Actually, it was more like everything was moving far slower than they ought to have been. It was peculiar. It made no sense. And it left her with questions.

It was to answer those questions that Louise had taken Ysmir from the Vestri Courtyard, after his fight, to her room. Here, the two of them sat at the circular table in the center of the room, along with the maid from before who stood nearby serving tea. She had followed the two of them here, and while normally Louise would have ordered her to leave, right now she was too preoccupied with the matters of her familiar to really care.

To start off her round of thoughtful and deep questions, Louise, with all her breeding as a noble, eloquently asked, "What in Brimir's name are you!?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question," Ysmir said, as he gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Siesta. "Thank you."

"Don't play dumb with me," Louise snapped irritably. "How are you able to fight like you did? No, more importantly, how is it that you, a mere commoner, can use magic?"

"A better question would be why is it that the ones you call 'commoners' cannot," Ysmir replied.

"What do you mean by that?" Louise asked.

"Mmm... This 'tea' thing is delicious," Ysmir said, after sipping at his drink. "To answer your question, I think it might be best if I introduce myself properly first. That should clear up much of your confusion, I think."

Louise nodded her consent. She agreed with Ysmir's judgment. Finding out more about just exactly who Ysmir was would be an excellent place to start her questioning from.

"I am not a human from Halkeginia," Ysmir said. "I am from a country called Skyrim, on the continent of Tamriel."

"You're from another continent?" Louise said incredulously.

"Aye, that I am," Ysmir said. "Your summoning spell transported me here a very vast distance, little girl."

"I am not a little girl!" Louise protested. "Stop calling me that!"

"Aye, aye," Ysmir smiled, causing Louise to scowl. She recognized that smile. It was when adults treated her as nothing more than a child whose impotent anger was something to be amused by.

"Hmph," Louise glared at her insolent familiar. "In any case, where is this Tamriel? I've never heard of it before."

"From Halkeginia, I'm not sure," Ysmir admitted. "All I know is that it is far enough away that our continents have, to the best of my knowledge, never interacted before. Perhaps on the other side of the world?"

"I see," Louise said, taking a drink of her own tea. "And how does this have to do with your ability to use magic? Are you a noble as well?"

"No, not exactly," Ysmir said, causing both Louise and Siesta's eyebrows to lift.

"What do you mean by that?" Louise said.

"What I mean is that although I have been granted titles of nobility," Ysmir elaborated, "they were given to me for the deeds I've done; not because I can use magic."

"Then how are you able to use magic?" Louise asked.

"I would assume that's because the magic of our continents are very different from one another," Ysmir answered.

"What do you mean by that, Ysmir?" Siesta asked, piping up for the first time.

"For starters, here in Halkeginia only nobles have the ability to use magic, correct?" Ysmir looked at both Louise and Siesta. "That is to say, they are literally the only ones that possess the capacity to use magic, and not just due to monetary or societal limitations, yes?" Louise and Siesta both nodded in affirmative. "In Tamriel, we have no such limitation. _Everyone_ has the potential to use magic."

"Everyone?" Louise gaped. "Not just nobles, but commoners as well?"

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Everyone."

"B-But that's impossible!" Louise declared in disbelief. "Nobles are nobles precisely because they're the only ones that can use magic!"

"In Halkeginia," Ysmir corrected. "In Tamriel, most nobles are not mages at all. In Skyrim specifically, that's even more true. Actually, except for me, I don't think any of the nobles are mages in Skyrim. The culture of my homeland tends to look down on magic as a coward's way of fighting. To them, magic is something people too weak to properly swing a sword or axe use."

"They what!?" Louise said, outraged.

"But wait," Siesta frowned. "If that's the case, why is it that you use magic, Ysmir? Wouldn't you think the same as them?"

"Well, my enemies were very strong," Ysmir said. "Strong enough that I did not have the leisure to be selective in the methods with which I fought. I could not specialize my skill set and master only a select few things, but neither could I become merely passingly familiar with a great variety of skills. I had to master them all, or at least as many as I could."

"What kind of enemy were you fighting?" Louise asked. "Surely it must have been a very dangerous one if you broke away from your people's completely backwards view on magic."

Ysmir's lips quirked in an amused smile at Louise's not-so-subtle jab. "Dragons. I was a dragon hunter."

Louise and Siesta both sharply sucked in a breath. Dragon hunting? That would explain why Ysmir needed to master such a diverse skill set. Of all the things that a person could do in life, hunting dragons was by far and away one of the most dangerous. After all, fighting Sylphid, a juvenile dragon, was one thing, but hunting down more mature members of the species was a totally different matter. In fact, it was often considered downright suicidal, even for a team of square class mages.

"You hunted dragons," Louise said in stunned, monotone voice. "You and what army? Or did you only hunt baby ones?"

"No, I did not hunt baby dragons. And I had no army with me, most of the time," Ysmir said. "I fought them alone."

"Impossible!" Louise cried out. "No one person could kill a grown dragon!"

"I understand your disbelief," Ysmir smiled. "But I am much stronger than I look."

Louise rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on, but she did her best to ignore it. "Okay, going back to the differences in our magics," Louise said. "What other differences are there?"

"Well, for starters, it seems that you Halkeginians need a wand or staff in order to use magic," Ysmir said. "That's just strange to me. Also very inconvenient."

"Why is that the case?" Louise frowned. This was something she too was curious about. "Needing a wand or a staff to cast magic is just common sense."

"Not in Tamriel it isn't," Ysmir said. "I'm not sure why you Halkeginians require it when we don't. I need to research your people's magic a bit more before I can come up with a solid theory. All I can say for now, though, is that they are a mere accessory for Tamrielic mages."

"Fine," Louise said. "We'll leave that for next time then."

Ysmir nodded in agreement. "Next, another difference is the number of different magics."

"What do you mean by that?" Louise said.

"From what I've learned from your classes, you Halkeginians basically have two types of magic. The first is something you're familiar with, no doubt. It's the one that allows you to control fire, earth, water, and wind. Let's call that 'Elemental magic,' for the time being," Ysmir said. "The second would be the Void magic that the Colbert fellow mentioned during class. However, since Void magic has long been lost, we can ignore that for now and say that your people's magics comes from Elemental magic only. Compared to that, Tamriel has so much more. We have the Destruction school of magic, as well as Restoration, Conjuration, Alteration, Illusion, and Enchanting. Those are the most well known and wide spread, but there are also many other more esoteric schools of magic, some of which have also been lost to the ages. Shadow magic, for example. Others are merely not taught in Skyrim, but are popular elsewhere in Tamriel, such as Mysticism."

Louise's eyes widened. "That many?"

"More than you can believe," Ysmir replied sagely.

"Then, which magics are you able to use?" Louise asked.

"The first six," Ysmir said. He smiled a little regretfully. "Finding a teacher for any other school of magic beyond those was nigh impossible to find in Skyrim."

"I have a question, Ysmir," Siesta said, raising her hand as if she was a student.

"What is it?" Ysmir said politely.

"How good of a mage are you?"

Ysmir did not answer right away. Instead, he frowned as he considered how to answer the question.

"I am not arrogant to say that I've mastered even a single school of magic, but I am amongst the greatest in those six schools in all of Skyrim," Ysmir finally said. "And I'm the Archmage of the College of Winterhold – one of the premier magic academies in all of Tamriel."

"The Archmage?" Louise cocked her head. She was unfamiliar with the term, but it sounded impressive nevertheless.

"It means that I was the head mage," Ysmir said. "The leader of the College, if you will."

Louise gawked at Ysmir.

"You had your own school?" Louise said in a daze.

"That's not entirely accurate, though I suppose you could say that," Ysmir allowed. "More accurately, there were circumstances involved that resulted in the previous Archmage being killed. As I was the one who brought his killer to justice, I was elected as the next head."

Louise slumped where she sat. On one hand, she felt elated that her familiar was in fact very powerful. Quite possibly, he was the most powerful familiar in the Academy. No, in fact, he might very well be the most powerful being in the entire school. Amongst the student population, the only ones that Louise thought might have a chance at beating Ysmir was Tabitha, because even when compared to the third years or many of the teachers, Tabitha was on a level of her own.

On the other hand, he was a better mage than her. He, who was not a noble, was better than her at magic, even though magic was supposed to be the dominion of nobles. That understanding left a shameful, bitter feeling deep within herself.

"It's getting late," Ysmir commented.

"Yes," Siesta agreed. Like Louise, she too seemed to be contemplating something very important. "I ought to be leaving now. If you'll excuse me."

With a polite bow, Siesta quietly picked up the tea set and left the room.

"Now, do you have any other questions?" Ysmir asked Louise.

Louise shook her head slowly. "No. Not right now, anyway. I think this is enough for one night."

Ysmir nodded. "Then I'm going to sleep."

Standing up, Ysmir went over to the same spot on the wall he had slept at the night before and promptly lied down and went to sleep. Louise, meanwhile, quietly went over to her desk and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. She dipped the tip of the quill into the inkwell and then began writing.

_Dear Cattleya..._


	3. Chapter 2 - The Wabbajack (Part 1)

**Chapter 2 – Wabbajack**

_Author's Notes:_

_In regards to this chapter, I've decided to not do the super long 20k+ word chapters anymore for a variety of reasons. Most importantly, though, is that it's just plain tiring in every sense of the word, from writing it to finishing it to editing it. As a result, I feel that the overall quality suffers too much. Having to do all that just kinda kills my desire to write for that fic. Too exhausting. _

_As such, expect from now on for my chapters to likely be around 10k words at most, though this will not be a hardline rule. _

**-Story Start-**

_Dear Cattleya, _

_Hello, sister. How are you faring? I hope that you're still in fine health and that you're properly taking care of yourself. You do remember what happened last time you pushed yourself too hard, right? Please do not let that happen again. We would all be deeply saddened if it did._

_Actually, the reason why I'm sending this letter is because we've recently summoned our familiars at the Academy, and I promised you in my last letter I would send you another once it was done. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I've successfully summoned a familiar. The thing is, though... I'm not sure how to say this, but my familiar is a strange one. _

_You see, my familiar is actually a human. Even though that should be impossible, it's true. To be honest, when I first summoned him, the other kids all made fun of me for it, and I myself was extremely disappointed – so much so that I almost wanted to quit trying to be a mage. But that was before I saw what he is capable of and learning of who he is._

_A mage. My familiar is a mage._

_Let me start from the beginning. _

_You see, my familiar – whose name is Ysmir by the way – is from a country called Skyrim which is located on a completely different continent that he calls Tamriel. As far as either of us know, neither of our continents has ever come into contact before._

_According to Ysmir, in Tamriel the way magic and nobility works is different than here in Halkeginia. This is going to sound completely ridiculous, but in that continent, nobles are not the only ones who can use magic. Anyone can learn to use magic. As in, everyone there has the potential to use it, not just the nobility. Not only that, but they use completely different types of magic than we do. He told me of a small list of the different types of magic that they have, and it's clear that in Tamriel, there is a huge variety of them. Quite dissimilar to here in Halkeginia, in which we only have one (two, if you include Void magic)._

_Furthermore, Ysmir is no mere mage either. Not only did he master several different schools of magic, he is also the head of his own academy of magic in Skyrim, and I've personally seen him demonstrate skills that would make mother herself approve of his strength. Probably, anyway. You know how strict mother can be sometimes. _

_That's not all. Not only is he a superb mage and swordsman, in his homeland he was a dragon hunter. He told me that he even hunted and killed dragons! Alone! Honestly, I'm not sure if I can believe him or not, but it's undeniable that he is very powerful. So powerful, in fact, that he makes me unsure of myself. I mean, a familiar is supposed to be its master's loyal servant, but Ysmir is anything but that. He won't listen to my orders, even though he should. I suppose that's because he's a thinking human and not just a normal beast, but even so, it's still frustrating. Also, isn't it just shameful that my familiar is a superior mage than I am, even if he does use different kinds of magic? I feel as though I'm just too useless. I'm a mage who can't get my familiar to obey me. I'm a mage whose familiar is better in every respect than her. And I'm a mage that can't even use magic. Maybe the others are right. Maybe I am just Louise the Zero. _

_I just don't know what to do anymore, Cattleya._

_Love,_

_Louise Francoise Le Blanc de La Valliere_

Cattleya smiled, as she finished reading the letter from her younger sister, and she folded the parchment neatly. Setting it down, she then withdrew from her desk her own piece of blank parchment and a quill and inkwell. She dipped the quill into the inkwell, and then began to write.

_To my beloved younger sister, Louise..._

* * *

><p>When Louise awoke, it was to the sound of soft clinking of ceramics lightly hitting against each other and the strong smell of herbs.<p>

"Hngh..." Louise groaned, as she slowly sat up in her bed, blinking her sleepy eyes awake. "Ysmir?"

The noise suddenly ceased, though Louise blearily noted that the smell continued to persist.

"Good morning," Ysmir said. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Louise replied, groggily rubbing at her eyes. "What are you doing?"

Sitting at the table in the center of the room, Ysmir had a mortar and pestle out, along with a great variety of plants set on the table.

"I was just doing some experiments," Ysmir explained. When Louise gave him an inquiring look, he elaborated. "I woke up rather early this morning and went outside for a while. While passing by the school gardens, I noticed a great many plants that I am unfamiliar with. I picked several of them and was testing there properties in order to see if I could mix them into any kind of meaningful potions."

"You mean you're an alchemist, too?" Louise said in disbelief.

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Being able to concoct my own potions is an invaluable skill and has served me well over the years."

Shaking her head, Louise marveled at Ysmir's casual admission to something which was considered to be astounding in Halkeginia. Alchemy was a practice that took years upon years to become proficient at, let alone master, even for the most well educated and gifted of apprentices. Even Montmorency, whose family was well known for their history of alchemy, could only be called an apprentice alchemist after nearly a decade of training. If Ysmir was at the point where he could concoct his own creations without any help from recipes or other people, then he was at least equal to Montmorency's level of skill, and very probably even better. The pink-haired noble wondered, was there anything that Ysmir could not do?

"What time is it?" Louise asked.

"It should be about noon," Ysmir replied. "Perhaps a bit past."

"Noon!?" Louise yelped, as she sprang out of bed. "I'm late for class!"

"Ah," Ysmir nodded understandingly, putting down his tools and ingredients. "You ought to hurry then."

Instead of wasting time responding, Louise nearly flew across the room towards her closet. At record speed, she changed into her uniform and ran out of the room. Loping behind her easily, Ysmir followed the pink-haired noble.

"You're going to come along for this class too?" Louise panted out, as she sprinted through the hallway. Thankfully, it was empty of other people, so no one could see her acting in such an ungainly fashion.

"Of course," Ysmir said easily. "Absorbing new information, learning, and training one's mind is of the utmost importance."

"I-If you say so," Louise wheezed, as she slowed to a halt, not because they had reached her classroom, but because she was too out of breath to run anymore.

"Tired already?" Ysmir frowned. "It hasn't even been a minute."

"B-Be quiet," Louise gasped, annoyed, while doubled over and clutching at her heaving chest. "I-I'm a noble. I don't normally run like this."

"Is that so?" Ysmir frowned. "Little girl, in your case, training your body ought to be your number one priority."

"I'm a noble," Louise repeated, as she began walking again. "Why should I do such a thing? That is for commoners. I only need to rely on my magic." Louise paused a beat, then added, "And I'm not a little girl!"

Ysmir snorted derisively. "If you think that merely being proficient in magic is enough to compensate for a weak physique, then you are sadly mistaken," Ysmir said. "I have defeated many mages without even a single spell due to how physically inept many of them were."

"How is that even possible?" Louise scoffed. Magic was superior to anything a commoner could muster up in a fight, after all. That was not an opinion. It was a fact. Therefore, unless greatly outnumbered, it was common sense that it was impossible for a mage to lose to a commoner in a fair fight.

Ysmir shrugged. "There are many ways of doing it. You can hound after them like a hunting dog over a long period of time and distance, using bows or crossbows to harry them from a safe distance and force them to constantly remain on the move. Sooner or later, they'll either be shot or will become so weary that they become easy prey. If you are willing to bear some pain and injuries, then there are also potions that grant resistance to magics, allowing you to simply break through a mage's onslaught. They're not exceptionally difficult to create, either, though they can be a tad pricy. Setting an ambush is also a perfectly viable course of action. And never underestimate the endurance of a warrior who is willing to die gloriously in order to kill the mage. The list goes on and on."

"Isn't that just because the mages in your homeland are too weak?" Louise pouted. "I can guarantee you that no mage of Halkeginia would lose to any commoner. Not without some underhanded trick, that is."

Ysmir shrugged again. "If you say so, little girl."

"I'm not a little girl!" Louise scowled. "I'm starting to think that you're doing this on purpose."

"We Nords are a blunt people," Ysmir said serenely. "We call things as we see them."

"Don't make me punish you," Louise growled, as they arrived at the classroom's door.

Ysmir flashed a grin. "I, of course, would not dream of it."

Louise leered suspiciously at Ysmir for a moment. Then she blew out a breath and decided to let the matter pass. "Come on. Let's go in quietly."

Nodding, Ysmir followed Louise into the classroom and they took their seat.

* * *

><p>Henrietta sighed as she listlessly read through a few reports. Or at least, she attempted to. Unfortunately, she found herself too distracted to do anything more attentive than to blankly stare at the parchment in her hands. With a sigh, Henrietta shook her head and attempted to refocus herself. The contents of the report were of vital importance. They held the details of her marriage into the Germanian imperial family. More accurately, they had written upon them the results of the negotiations of the alliance between Germania and Tristain, an alliance that was to be solidified by her marriage with the Germanian king.<p>

Henrietta sighed again. Truth be told, she had absolutely zero personal desire to marry the Germanian king, for a variety of reasons, but most prominent amongst them was because her heart already belonged to another.

Setting down the report, Henrietta opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small, worn-out, folded piece of parchment. Opening it for the hundredth time, Henrietta fondly read the most recent letter sent from her secret lover, Prince Wales Tudor. With fondness, she quickly found herself losing track of time as she read and reread the letter. It was only when someone knocked sharply on the door that she managed to pull herself away from the contents of the parchment.

"Yes?" Henrietta called out. "Come in."

The door opened and a woman with short blonde hair, dressed in armor, and with a sword at her side walked in. She bowed courteously for a second, before raising her head to face the princess of Tristain.

"Agnes," Henrietta smiled pleasantly. "What is it?"

"Her Highness wishes to speak to you," Agnes said. "About the upcoming marriage, that is."

"Ah," Henrietta said, a little crestfallen. She had honestly hoped that Agnes had simply dropped by to chat with her in order to relieve some of her boredom. But then, Agnes was not one that was wont to idle, meaningless conversation. Strict and always to the point. Those were the characteristics that defined the musketeer captain. "Please go tell her that I'll be there shortly."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Agnes said. Her gaze flickered towards the letter still in Henrietta's hand. In a rare incident, Agnes showed signs of hesitation before nodding firmly to herself and speaking. "Your Highness, if you'd like, I could organize a small squad to infiltrate Albion and secretly rescue the prince."

"Thank you, Agnes," Henrietta said. "But no. We must do nothing that would risk turning Reconquista's eyes toward us, at least not until we've finalized the alliance with Germania."

"I could prepare for that," Agnes replied. "Tracing the rescue back to Tristain would be impossible."

Henrietta smiled. "Thank you, but my answer is still no. Besides, he would never go along with such a thing. No, he would rather die defending what he believes in than flee for safety by abandoning his people, no matter what anyone says."

"I see," Agnes said in a neutral tone. "Very well, then. I will go inform the queen that you will be present shortly."

"Wait, Agnes," Henrietta said just as the musketeer captain began to turn. She stopped and faced the princess again. "I do need you to prepare a squad to infiltrate Albion."

Agnes arched an eyebrow, undoubtedly confused by Henrietta's blatant contradiction. Seeing this, Henrietta held up one hand to cut off any questions and continued speaking.

"Not to rescue Wales," she clarified. "But to recover and destroy a certain item."

"What is it?"

"A letter." Henrietta held up the parchment in her hand. "The one I sent in reply to this. If Reconquista gets their hands on it, they could use it to destroy the marriage and alliance and thereby leave Tristain vulnerable to invasion."

"Understood," Agnes said. "I will make preparations."

"Thank you, Agnes," Henrietta said. "Now then." The princess of Tristain sighed. "Let's go see my mother."

* * *

><p>The wall was thick. She could feel it underneath her feet. Return the stone to dirt? No. Impossible. There were too many and too strong magics that would not let her. She needed power. Lots and lots and lots of power. Enough power to punch through the wall. Punch through the wall so that it was like cheese and the cheese that was like a wall that was a cheese wall. Yes, she needed power to punch the cheese wall. Power. Power? Force. She would need much force to break free the Wabbajack, Wabbajack, Wabba-Wabba-Wabbajack.<p>

Where could she get the force she needed? From who? From what? What did she need in order to free the Wabbajack? Punch it. Punch and break it. With her fist? No. Her fist was too, too, too small. She needed a much bigger fist if she wanted to punch a hole through the wall of cheese and free the Wabbajack, Wabbajack, Wabba-Wabba-Wabbajack.

A golem, then. She needed to make a big, big, _big_ golem. A golem with a fist big enough to punch a hole through the wall that was like cheese and free her Wabbajack, Wabbajack, Wabba-Wabba-Wabbajack.

Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.

* * *

><p>Once Ysmir left the classroom with Louise, he found himself busy ruminating on what he had learned in Colbert's class.<p>

The lesson had been focused on fire magic and its applications. At first, Ysmir had expected this to mean that it would be a lesson primarily centered on how to burn one's enemies to a crisp. However, that had not been the case at all. Quite the opposite, Colbert had striven to teach the class the non-violent uses of fire magic. That in and of itself was an almost unheard of idea, and further impressed upon Ysmir the difference between his magic and Halkeginia's. Fire magic, being a part of the Destruction school, was primarily intended to do just that in Tamriel – destroy. In Ysmir's case, the only times he had used fire magic outside of combat was for small, insignificant things, such as lighting a campfire or a torch.

But what truly captured Ysmir's interest was a mechanical invention that the balding professor had presented to them in order to drive home the purpose of his lesson. The strange machine was something he called an "engine." By using "gasoline" as a fuel source and then igniting it, it was possible to move things with the engine. In his demonstration, he had used it to make a toy snake pop out of a box, but he had claimed that it would be possible for more refined versions of the contraption to move wagons or even boats without the need of work beasts or magic.

Although the classroom at large did not find such a thing at all intriguing, Ysmir found it revolutionary. What Colbert had invented was entirely dissimilar and yet also reminiscent to that of the ancient Dwemer automatons. Granted, the constructs the Dwemer had made primarily used steam power and soul gems instead of derivatives of oil, but that only made Colbert's machine even more impressive in Ysmir's mind. After all, he was a man who had just taken the first step into leading humans on an entirely original path that could potentially rival the achievements of that extinct species of elves one day.

That aside, there was one other thing that bothered Ysmir. During the entire course of the class, the redheaded girl – Kirche, if he remembered correctly – had been staring at him in a predatory manner. Although it did not feel like she meant him any harm, he could not shake the feeling that he was somehow unsafe. Rather, it felt like he was being watched by a wild sabre cat.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Louise suddenly asked, snapping him out of his deep thoughts.

"Hm?" Ysmir looked at Louise. "Ah, I was just thinking that the engine that Colbert made was fascinating."

Louise snorted. "It's not that great. Why bother making something that mages can already do on their own? It's a waste of effort."

"Perhaps," Ysmir said. "It was still interesting, though."

"I suppose," Louise allowed grudgingly. "Anyway, how are your notes coming along?"

"Well enough," Ysmir answered. "Although, since that Colbert fellow's class just now was so... how should I say it... unique, that I was not able to gather as much information as I would have liked that would help me better understand your people's magic. It only reinforced the impression that our magics are truly different."

"Is that so?" Louise frowned. "It's true that Professor Colbert has always been pretty eccentric, I suppose, so I can see why you'd say that. Don't worry. The next class will probably be much more traditional."

"That's good," Ysmir said. "Who is teaching it?"

"Professor Kaita," Louise said. "He teaches the wind element classes for the second years." Louise gave a sidelong glance at Ysmir, as they continued to walk. "Out of curiosity, you can use wind element magic, or at least something similar, can't you?"

"No," Ysmir said. "Why?"

"I saw you using lightning magic against Sylphid," Louise said. "Lightning spells fall under the wind element category."

"Oh? That's interesting," Ysmir mused. "But no, I do not know wind element spells like you Halkeginians know them. What I used at that time was a Destruction spell."

"You know, I've been thinking about that," Louise said. "Last time, you only gave me a brief overview of your people's magic. Give me a little more information about them."

Ysmir frowned. "I do not mind, but why do you wish to know?"

"I'm just curious," Louise shrugged.

"Curiosity is an excellent trait to have," Ysmir said approvingly. "Only the curious can truly learn. Very well. I will explain." Ysmir cleared his throat. "As I told you before, there are six schools of magic that I am familiar with: Destruction, Conjuration, Illusion, Alteration, Restoration, and Enchanting. Destruction magic is by far the most straightforward. It uses fire, ice, or lightning to destroy your enemies."

"That really _is_ straightforward," Louise quipped, and Ysmir smiled slightly. "It also seems really similar to Elemental magic, though. What's the difference?"

"The largest difference is that, unlike Destruction magic, Elemental magic can do much more than merely destroy," Ysmir said. "Do you remember that construct that the Guiche boy called his 'Valkyrie?'" Louise nodded. Ysmir shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Destruction magic could never have made such a thing. In fact, I've never even _heard_ of anyone doing something like that. Being able to create a golem like that with your own magic? That's really impressive."

"Really?" Louise said. "But that's a very basic earth magic skill. It's not that noteworthy."

"Then I'm sure that there are even more awesome differences between our magics at the high end level spells," Ysmir said confidently. "The most similar spell I can think of to that would be the summoning of atronachs."

"Atronachs?" Louise cocked her head at the unfamiliar term. "What are those?"

"One of the many species of daedra," Ysmir said. "They're sort of similar to the Valkyrie that Guiche made, but they're usually formed of either fire, ice, or lightning."

"What's a 'daedra?'" Louise said, looking at Ysmir very intently.

Ysmir had noticed this before, but even though Louise was a rather abysmal failure at her people's magic, her mentality as a student was of the highest grade. Perhaps it was because she was so unskilled, but Ysmir had never seen Louise give anything less than her absolute attention to every word that her teacher said, somehow finding time to take meticulous notes simultaneously. Perhaps, Ysmir thought to himself, she was compensating for her lack of magical skill.

"It's an Altmeri word that roughly translates to 'not our ancestors,'" Ysmir said. "The Altmer are what my people call the High Elves, by the way."

"Tamriel has elves, too?" Louise said, eyes wide with shock.

"Of course," Ysmir said. "There's the Altmer, the Dunmer, the Bosmer, the Falmer, the Dwemer, who are extinct, and many more."

"So many elves," Louise murmured. She shuddered. "How frightening."

"Frightening?" Ysmir cocked his head. "Why would you say that?"

"You mean you aren't afraid of elves?" Louise gawked at Ysmir.

"Well, they're certainly gifted in magic, and challenging one to a duel of magics is definitely intimidating," Ysmir frowned, "but I have had both elven comrades and enemies before. They're not so different from we humans."

"But they're elves!" Louise said, looking horrified by Ysmir's words.

"Maybe the elves you know and the elves I know are different kind of elves?" Ysmir said quickly, hoping to assuage Louise's sudden and inexplicable fear. "What makes it so that Halkeginian elves are so frightening for you?"

"They're powerful," Louise shuddered. "Extremely powerful. It's said that even though they don't use wands or staves, they can use strange devices that allow them to wield magic that we humans can't even begin to comprehend. In one famous battle between humans and elves during the last crusade, just five hundred elves defeated a force of nearly twenty-thousand humans and forced them to retreat. Not only that, but they occupy the lands from which Founder Brimir was born – the Holy Lands. Because of that, there are lots of historical accounts of the extent of elven power."

"Truly?" Ysmir said, surprised. "Hm... If that's true, these elves do seem far more formidable than the ones I am familiar with."

"Yes, but enough of that," Louise said, sounding a tad desperate to change the subject away from the topic of elves. "Back to what these 'Daedra' things are."

"Right," Ysmir said. "As I was saying, the Daedra are powerful, immortal beings who originate from the plane of Oblivion. I'll elaborate on that and explain what Oblivion is next time, since that is a topic I could teach you about for days without even coming close to explaining it in its entirety. For now, I wish to answer your original question." Louise nodded in understanding. "That said, this leads into the school of Conjuration, and it is by far the most dangerous of all the schools of magic in Tamriel. The purview of Conjuration magic is the summoning of Daedra and the raising of the dead. In other words, necromancy." Here, Ysmir's voice turned very soft. "With Conjuration, it is possible to bind to your will powerful Daedric servants, the weakest of them possessing the power and potential to slaughter dozens of men on its own. There have been those in the past that have summoned whole armies of these Daedra, and nearly brought entire countries to the brink of destruction. One such event in particular very nearly destroyed the entire continent, and it later became known as the Oblivion Crisis."

"That does sound dangerous... and powerful," Louise said quietly.

"I'm not finished yet," Ysmir said. "The worst part of Conjuration magic is that it relies so much on the tenuous link formed between the Conjurer and the Summoned. The stronger the Daedra you summon, the more difficult it is to bind it to your will. If you falter even the slightest, the summoned Daedra will quickly turn upon you and kill you. Conjuration is not for the weak minded."

"And the other part of Conjuration?" Louise said. "What about necromancy?"

"That's dangerous in a different way," Ysmir said. "Most cultures I've come across find raising the dead to fight for you is a foul and profane act that desecrates the dignity of the dead. Oftentimes, those who practice necromancy will find themselves hunted by various peoples, for various reasons."

"And you are able to use this magic?" Louise made a disgusted expression.

Ysmir shrugged. "I'm not proud of it, but yes. As my Conjuration teacher once told me, necromancy is a tool, and like all tools, they're meant to be used." Ysmir grimaced. "Although, I do agree that it is a loathsome skill. It dishonors the dead, and unless I truly have need of it, I avoid using it."

"That's good," Louise said. Her expression turned thoughtful. "Basically, Conjuration is about summoning, right, Ysmir?"

"Aye."

"Then isn't the summoning spell I used also a Conjuration spell?" Louise asked.

"I considered that too, before," Ysmir admitted. "Ultimately, I think there are enough glaring differences that make them different from one another."

"Like what?"

"For starters, your summoning spell summoned me from this same plane of existence," Ysmir said. "While it's true that you summoned me a fantastic distance, we were both still living in the same world. Conjuration magic, on the other hand, summons the Daedra from Oblivion, an entirely different realm of existence. Because of that, I'm forced to say that your summoning spell is not a Conjuration spell."

"Oh," Louise pursed her lips together. "That makes sense."

Ysmir nodded. "Moving on, next is Illusion. Simply put, the Illusion school is about the manipulation of the perception of reality. With it, I can tamper the mind and senses of those around me. It's possible to induce an irresistible fear in my foes, forcing them to flee from me. I can turn even the closest friends or lovers against each other as if they were mortal enemies. I can do the opposite as well. I can calm those who would want nothing more than to murder me and deprive them of all of their fighting spirit. I can even turn myself invisible, making me undetectable to the eyes of others."

"That... actually sounds even more vile than necromancy," Louise frowned.

"Well, there is a reason why Illusion is also frowned upon by some," Ysmir allowed, shrugging. "Most people take rather large offense to having their minds controlled like that. In any case, next is Alteration. If Illusion is the magic that manipulates the _perception_ of reality, Alteration changes the _rules_ of reality. More accurately, it's the manipulation of the physical world and its natural properties. For instance, I can make my skin and clothes harder than any steel or grant myself the ability to breath underwater. Though it is a high level skill that most mages do not learn for a long time, I can also paralyze others, totally preventing them from moving.

"Finally, Restoration and Enchanting. They're fairly simple to explain. Restoration is the magic of life. It is used to heal wounds and injuries, create magic barriers, cure illnesses, and destroy the undead. Enchanting is the skill of imparting magical traits into an otherwise ordinary object, whether it be clothes, weapons, or armor. For example, a sword can be enchanted to burn anything that it cuts. A skilled enchanter can oftentimes be the most highly sought out of all practitioners of the magical arts."

Louise brought up a hand to rub her temple, as if she had a headache. "That is a lot to take in," Louise said, sounding slightly fatigued. "But I guess I was expecting at least that much when I asked. So then, that spell you used to turn yourself into a ghost... Would that be an Alteration spell, since you were physically changing something?"

"Ah, that?" Ysmir smiled, as he shook his head. "Nay, that was a Thu'um."

"Another kind of magic?" Louise said.

"Aye," Ysmir nodded. "A very ancient form of magic that is legendary amongst my people."

"I see. You'll have to tell me more about it next time," Louise said, as the two of them left the main doors of the Academy and walked outside towards the courtyard where a multitude of other students were gathered. "Maybe after this class?"

"Aye," Ysmir nodded. "I see no problem with that."

* * *

><p>Louise took a sidelong glance at Ysmir, and winced. He seemed to be in a foul mood, if his expression was any indicator. At first he had listened in on the class with much enthusiasm, but the longer the class dragged on, the more and more sour his face became. Louise had a fairly good guess as to the reason why, too: Professor Kaita.<p>

Professor Kaita, also known as Kaita the Gust, was infamous around the school for his stubborn belief in the absolute superiority of the wind element. It was rumored that this mindset stemmed from an inferiority complex to some fire mage, as he always seemed to pick on the fire mages amongst his students. Whatever the case was, the indisputable truth was that Kaita would spend vast amounts of time extolling the virtues of wind magic and only barely teach any actual wind magic. That was why many students had taken to calling him Kaita the Blowhard. Behind his back, of course.

While Louise and the rest of the students had long since become accustomed to Kaita's... "teaching" methods, Ysmir was far less inured. He had listened to Kaita eagerly, expecting to learn something more about Halkeginian magic. Instead, he had been subjected to a long winded speech about how wind magic was so much stronger, so much better, than any other type of magic. His patience had been strained to its limits and his irritation had risen to its peak.

Louise had yet to see Ysmir truly, genuinely angry before. He had seen him full of fighting spirit and willingness to hurt or even kill, certainly, but this kind of simple, raw anger was new to her. It was like how a child might react had he been deceived and disappointed by a broken promise. Except in Ysmir's case, it was so much more intense.

"Come," Ysmir finally said once Kaita had begun talking for the third time on how wind magic was able to counter fire magic with incredible ease. "There is no reason for us to stay here any longer. There is nothing you will learn from that charlatan who calls himself a teacher."

"Eh?" Louise blinked. "But... I can't just skip class when I'm right in the middle of it."

Ysmir snorted. "You want to learn? Then you would be better off studying on your own, instead of listening to that buffoon speak."

"Oh? If you're planning to leave, I'll join you."

Louise looked fully to the side and scowled upon noticing that, at some point, Kirche had sidled up beside them and was now leaning against Ysmir, locking his arms with hers. Ysmir merely looked at Kirche with a somewhat confused expression.

"You are..." Ysmir frowned, furrowing his brow in concentration. "Kirsi? Nay, Kirche, are you not?"

"You remember me," Kirche purred, clearly pleased. "I am Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst. But you can call me Kirche, Ysmir."

"That is well," Ysmir said. "Such a long name would be too difficult to remember." The tall man cocked his head. "But how is it that you know of my name? I do not recall telling it to you."

Kirche let out a tinkling laugh. "I have my ways." The redhead pressed her breasts (which, Louise noted with much annoyance, were needlessly large and probably full of useless fat) closer against Ysmir's body. "That aside, you were talking about leaving this class, weren't you? Why don't you come with me? I can teach you _many_ things. It'll be fun."

"Really?" Ysmir said curiously. "Are you certain you are experienced enough to be my teacher?"

"Oh, I'm quite certain of that," Kirche said throatily.

"Excellent," Ysmir said eagerly. "Let us go without delay, then."

Louise sighed as she grabbed Ysmir by his other arm. It appeared that of the three of them, only she understood that Kirche and Ysmir were in fact having two different conversations.

"Hm? What is it, little girl?" Ysmir said. "Ah, did you wish to join us in learning?"

"Oh my!" Kirche's eyes were positively dancing with delight. "Ysmir. To think you had such interests."

"I'm always in favor of learning of new things," Ysmir said sagely. "Especially when they are things I have not done or learned of before."

"Well, I'm certain that you'll find me a most able teacher in that regard as well," Kirche said, amused.

"First of all, I am not a little girl," Louise said wearily. "Second of all, give me your ear. I need to tell you something."

Ysmir frowned as he leaned over to the side. Louise tiptoed up to whisper into Ysmir's ear about Kirche's true intentions. And then Ysmir stood back up and looked at Kirche with an expression so profoundly crestfallen that it would have melted the heart of even the iciest, most stone-hearted of women. It was the face one would expect a poor puppy to give when someone had just kicked it in its time of need.

"You mean you weren't going to teach me about magic?" Ysmir said in a deeply saddened tone.

"Wait, you thought I was going to teach you about magic?" Kirche said, now looking thoroughly confused.

"Of course I did," Ysmir said, brushing Kirche off his arm. "I had _just_ mentioned that this class was meaningless, so when someone else offered to teach me something, I rather logically drew the conclusion that they meant something related to the subject that milk drinker over there" – Ysmir jabbed a finger in Kaita's direction – "_should_ be teaching."

"What's a milk drinker?" Louise interjected.

"It's merely an insult used amongst my people," Ysmir said quickly. He turned his attention back to Kirche. "Girl, I will tell you this right now: I am not interested in a body so freely given."

"Eh?" was the only thing Kirche could say as she blinked in blank shock at being so easily rejected.

Louise, meanwhile, was futilely attempting to suppress a bubbling laughter at her rival being defeated by her target. To date, such a thing had never happened, at least not as far as Louise was aware of. That she would be rejected by Louise's familiar was almost poetic, especially considering how Kirche had mocked Louise for summoning a mere commoner (though Louise now knew that there was nothing "mere" about Ysmir) just the day before.

_Good job, Ysmir,_ Louise secretly cheered, while she continued to chortle irrepressibly. Kirche shot her a dirty glare, which only made Louise chuckle even harder.

"Miss Valliere. Miss Zerbst. Might I ask just _why_ you two are making so much noise?"

Louise turned to see that at some point, the three of them had become the center of attention. The other students were watching with the same amusement on their faces as if they were watching a comedic play. Professor Kaita, on the other hand, was standing not too far away from them, with his arms crossed and face set in an irritated expression.

Louise's laughter quickly died away, her mirth giving away to panic, as her mind desperately reeled, searching for an excuse. Taking advantage of that moment in which Louise had froze, Ysmir spoke.

"Our apologies," Ysmir said coolly. "We were just about to leave, so you may continue your... _class, _if that's what you call it."

Kaita narrowed his eyes at the rather blatant insult to his teaching methods. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that it's a pity that you are wasting the students' time by daring to call yourself a teacher," Ysmir said. "They would all be better off doing self-study instead of listening to you brag about wind magic without even teaching a single spell." Ysmir snorted. "Blowhards, such as yourself, are ill fit to be a teacher."

"Ysmir!" Louise hissed, horrified at what her familiar was saying. He wasn't even _trying_ to be subtle. Ab, but that did make sense, Louise suddenly thought. He did mention how his people were a very blunt one. Wait! That wasn't even important right now! What mattered was that her familiar had just insulted her teacher in front of a large amount of students. There was absolutely no way this was going to end well. She needed to stop it, now. "You need to apologize. That was extremely rude."

Ysmir turned his head to stare very evenly at Louise. "Asking me to apologize for speaking the truth is by far the stupidest thing I've heard you say."

"It's not about what you think is the truth or not," Louise said urgently. "You were being too rude to Professor Kaita."

"I think it's even more rude that he's wasting all of his students' time," Ysmir said, the heat in his voice rising. "I will not apologize."

"Ysmir!"

"And just _who_ do you think _you_ are to say such a thing? You, a mere commoner?" Kaita said, nostrils flaring as he puffed his chest out in front of Ysmir to make himself seem bigger than he actually was. It was somewhat reminiscent to what a small cat would do when attempting to scare off a much larger wolf. And just like a cat confronted by a wolf, no matter how much it tried, it was still ultimately smaller and much weaker than the canine, and would be devoured by it.

But what caught Louise's attention was not Kaita's physical reaction, but his verbal one. A "mere commoner," he had called him. That was strange. By now, the story of Ysmir's fight against Sylphid should have spread around the entire school. It was too large of an incident for it to have remained quiet. Not even the teachers should have been spared that fact. So why was it, then, that Kaita still called Ysmir a mere commoner? Was he purposefully trying to insult him by pretending to be ignorant to that fact? Louise glanced around at the other students, and then realized that that wasn't the case. She could see from their expressions that they still looked down upon Ysmir with the same eyes as they did to other commoners. They had no doubt already heard the story of his fight and ability to use magic. Just as certainly, they did not believe it.

Louise couldn't blame them overmuch. It _was_ a rather hard story to swallow for those who had not seen it firsthand. Even then, it was still difficult to believe.

"Who am I?" Ysmir growled. "I am the man who was bestowed the name of Ysmir by the Greybeards, men of strength and wisdom far beyond you. I am one who has witnessed powers you would scarcely be able to believe. I have slain dragons, killed immortals, and seen horrors not meant for mortal ken. I am a mage and a warrior. _That_ is who _I_ am. And _you,_ little man, are _not_ a teacher. You are nothing more than an ignorant braggart filling the minds of children with your buffoonery."

"How dare you!" Kaita shouted. "Shall I prove it then, that wind magic is the most powerful?"

"Oh, _now_ you wish to actually do something educational?" Ysmir scoffed. "Fine. What do you have in mind?"

"I will demonstrate it for you," Kaita said arrogantly. "I will show to you now the strength and power of wind magic."

With brisk, practiced motions, Kaita pulled out his wand from a pocket in his robes and pointed it towards a clear spot away from the students.

"_Tornado,"_ the wind professor chanted, causing air to blow forth strongly from the tip of his wand. The currents flowed out and then swirled faster and faster in an upward spiral until they had formed a fast spinning tornado roughly eight feet tall. It was a rather impressive feat of wind magic, Louise noted, as her hair whipped about from the ensuing winds. It had good size and was obviously fairly powerful. Judging by the way the tornado was being kept carefully rooted to a single spot, it meant that Kaita had a good amount of control as well. It was not anywhere near the level of skill and power that Louise's mother could demonstrate, but it was really unfair to compare any wind mage to that of her mother. What Professor Kaita was showing was enough to place him firmly in the triangle class – an achievement worthy of praise.

Ysmir was not impressed.

"Is that it?" the tall familiar said dryly. "With just that you think it's enough to fill the minds of your students with your inanity? Feh. What hubris. As I thought, you are just a little man."

"Oh, really?" Kaita said, a dangerous edge to his tone. He flicked his wand, allowing his tornado to dissipate. "And what makes you think you, a commoner, can tell me such things? What makes you think you can judge me when you can't even use magic?"

Ysmir coolly regarded the wind professor for a moment. Then he walked over to the same clearing that Kaita had cast his spell at and closed his eyes. Almost as if he was performing some strange type of dance, Ysmir slowly moved his hands and arms in unfamiliar but clearly intricate patterns. Then, Louise's eyes widened as lightning began to form all along his arms and shoulders. The raw energy made crackling sounds as they danced on Ysmir's body, without leaving so much as a scorch mark on his flesh or clothes.

And then Ysmir unleashed his spell straight up into the skies.

It was deafening.

"Great Brimir!" Louise shouted, though she could scarcely hear her own voice over the literal torrent of lightning that her own familiar was unleashing into the air through his hands.

In her life, Louise had seen many wind mages before. Her own mother was the _greatest_ wind mage in the history of Halkeginia: Karin, the Heavy Wind. Amongst the more skilled of those mages, several of them had specialized in lightning magic. Her own fiance, Viscount Wardes, was a square class wind mage who was renowned for his skill in lightning magic, hence his runic name the "Lightning."

She was quite certain while Wardes could at least match, if not surpass, Ysmir in skill with lightning magic, she was equally sure that he could never match the sheer _power_ behind Ysmir's spell. If he could, she had certainly never seen him do so.

For several long seconds, Ysmir maintained the spell. When the focused torrent of lightning finally died away, Louise was left with a harsh ringing in her ears that made it difficult for her to hear for a few moments longer.

"I-Impossible!" Kaita stammered, pointing an accusatory finger at Ysmir. "Impossible!"

"So pointless," Ysmir grumbled, as he walked passed the blubbering wind professor, disregarding him entirely. "Come, little girl. We ought to leave."

For once, Louise did not retort at Ysmir's nickname for her, and followed him instead quietly.

* * *

><p>"Ysmir, are you all right?" Louise asked, as she, her familiar, and one particularly insufferable redhead sat on the grass at the Vestri Courtyard. For whatever reason, when Ysmir had stormed away from Kaita's class, he had chosen to come here. Louise wondered, perhaps he liked this place?<p>

Sitting cross legged in front of her, Ysmir sighed and grunted in response, his elbow planted on one knee and head resting on his hand.

"That was stupid of me," Ysmir said.

"Stupid? That was amazing!" Kirche enthused. "I knew you could use magic, but I never realized just how _powerful_ you truly are!"

Ysmir looked up at the Germanian and shook his head. "No, that was stupid," Ysmir said regretfully. "In my anger, I allowed myself to be drawn into a spitting contest that had no victors, only losers. It was most unwise."

"I think anyone would say that you won that contest, though," Kirche frowned.

"Aye, but what did I _gain_ from that?" Ysmir said seriously. "How did I benefit from showing off my abilities? All I did was earn the ire of a teacher, forever barring me from learning anything from him in the future, while that man in turn lost credibility amongst his students." Ysmir sighed again. "Neither of us gained anything and lost something. It was a loss for both of us."

"Well, even if you say that, it's not like Kaita was all that great as a teacher," Kirche sniffed.

"If today is any mark, then I agree completely," Ysmir said. "But that is something that can be fixed through polite discussion and diplomacy – _not _through angering and humiliating him." Ysmir let out an exasperated breath. "I regret everything."

Kirche frowned, saying nothing, and in that silence, Louise took the opportunity to change the subject. It seemed that this current topic was really bothering her familiar. It would be best if they moved onto another one, in that case.

"Say, Ysmir," Louise said. "That spell you showed... That was a Destruction spell, right?"

"Destruction spell?" Kirche cocked her head, as she stared curiously at Louise. "What are you talking about, Valliere? Wasn't that clearly a wind element spell?"

"I'll explain," Ysmir said. Briefly, he explained to Kirche his origins, how he was mysteriously brought here, and how Tamrielic and Halkeginian magics were vastly different.

"Are you serious?" Kirche said, shocked. "That's amazing!"

"Ah," Ysmir said simply in response. Then he turned his head to face Louise. "As to answer your question, little girl, yes, that was a Destruction spell. One of the most difficult and powerful ones, in fact." Ysmir smiled very slightly. "You ought to see how quickly it can bring down even dragons. It is quite a sight to behold."

"That's great and all, but can you stop calling me 'little girl?'" Louise said irritably. "I think you're just doing it to annoy me now."

Ysmir smiled serenely, but said nothing. Louise scowled.

"You're not going to stop, are you," Louise said, more stating a fact than asking a question.

"Perhaps one day," Ysmir allowed.

Louise glared at Ysmir. The familiar grinned in response. Kirche giggled at the aside.

And then the earth shook violently.

"What was that?" Ysmir said, already firmly on his feet by the time Louise and Kirche had begun to regain their balance.

"An earthquake, I guess?" Louise said, as she very carefully rose to her feet. Ysmir's hand gripped her firmly but gently by the shoulder, helping to balance her. "They're not common in Tristain, but not unheard of."

"That was no earthquake," Ysmir growled, his eyes scanning all around them. "That was a tremor of something very big and heavy landing upon the earth."

"That's oddly specific," Louise said. "How do you know that?"

"Experience," Ysmir grimaced.

"Look! Over there!" Kirche cried out, pointing towards the east.

Approaching with large, lumbering steps, was a gigantic earth golem. It stood at least fifteen meters tall, and was seemingly made entirely of solid stone. With every step it took with its massive feet, it shook the earth – a testament to its titanic weight.

"Is that a golem?" Ysmir gawked. "That thing is as big as dragons!"

"It's probably a golem made by a triangle or square class earth mage," Louise said quickly. "But what's it doing?"

The golem finally stopped in front of one of the towers attached to the Academy. Then it reeled its hand back and delivered a powerful punch. Despite the force behind the blow, the walls of the Academy, enchanted to be exceptionally durable, held. However, that would not last. If the golem continued delivering punch after punch, it would bust a hole straight into...

"The treasury vault!" Louise cried out. "It's trying to break into the treasury vault!" Louise looked to Ysmir. "We have to stop it."

"Agreed," Ysmir said. "Stand back, both of you."

Louise and Kirche both nodded and stepped away from Ysmir. Once more, Ysmir's arms began moving in the intricate patterns he had demonstrated earlier in front of Kaita. As the lightning formed and danced along Ysmir's arms, the giant golem continued hammering at the Academy walls. Then, at the same time the golem finally smashed open the solid stone barrier, Ysmir unleashed his spell.

Once more, a torrent of thunder and lightning erupted from Ysmir's hands, which he held in front of him, aiming it carefully at the golem. The lightning met the stone giant. With great, crashing noises, Ysmir's spell tore viciously away at the golem. Wherever Ysmir moved the channel of thunder, deep furrows were left upon the golem in its wake. In the end, no matter how durable the golem's earthen body might have been, it was of no match against the might of Ysmir's spell. Within moments, the entire body was reduced to scorched rubble.

However, just before the golem was destroyed, Louise noticed something. A hole opened up at the golem's head, and from within it a person concealed within a long, green cloak emerged. With deft movements, that person ran along the crumbling arm of the golem and jumped inside the now open treasury vault.

"The thief is inside the vault!" Louise said.

"Aye," Ysmir said, as the lightning disappeared, its residual energies fading from his body with a faint crackling sound. "Come. Let us move to intercept him. I'd imagine that the only way out will be the same way he went in."

"Yes," Louise nodded. "Let's go!"

The three of them hurried over to a spot under the hole, near the remains of the golem. Seconds later, the thief hopped out of the vault and waved his wand in midair, causing him to gently float down to the ground. Under his other arm, he carried a long and thin wooden box.

"Stop right there, thief!" Louise said authoritatively, once the cloaked person landed. "For the crime of destruction of property and theft, I, Louise Le Blanc de La Valliere, in accordance with the laws of Tristain, place you under arrest! I order you to surrender!"

Instead of replying with words, the thief began chortling. The thief's laughter, Louise realized, was distinctly feminine. However, the way the thief so easily dismissed Louise's commands angered her, causing her to ignore that curiosity in favor of shouting at the thief.

"What's so funny?" Louise demanded.

The thief tapped her wand to the box once, causing it to suddenly crumble into dirt and reveal its contents. Louise frowned as she stared at the staff now in the thief's hand. It was thin and long and grey, standing nearly as tall as the thief itself. The head of the staff was also carved into a strange effigy of three faces, each set into a differing expression, but all with unnaturally large and open mouths. There was something strange about this staff, and the more Louise stared at it, the more she couldn't help but feel that it was... that it was... _beautiful._ It was beautiful, and she wanted it. She wanted that staff. She had no idea what it was, but she wanted that staff. Whatever it took, she wanted it. That-

"The Wabbajack?" Ysmir said in utter shock, suddenly snapping Louise out from her trance. What was that, she wondered? It was as if she had suddenly lost control of her own thoughts merely by gazing at the staff. "Impossible! That can't be the Wabbajack!"

"Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack." the thief chanted, as it pointed the staff at Louise. A burst of red light shot forth from the tip of the staff and flew towards the petite noble. Still distracted by her own thoughts, Louise noticed the attack too late, and found herself frozen and unable to move out of the way fast enough.

"No!" Ysmir shouted, as he jumped in front of Louise, shielding her with his own body.

"Ysmir!" Louise cried out in horror.

"Darling!" Kirche gasped.

"Wabbajack!" the thief giggled cheerfully.

The spell hit Ysmir, causing a burst of thick, red mist to explode outward. For a moment, none of them could see anything through the mist. But just as suddenly as it had exploded into existence, the mist faded away, as if blown away by some nonexistent wind. And when it was gone, Louise realized that the thief had vanished, fleeing from the cover of the sudden smokescreen.

But the thief was not the only one who had vanished.

Ysmir had disappeared as well.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Wabbajack (Part 2)

**Chapter 3 – Wabbajack (Part 2)**

"So what you mean to tell me is that a thief, an earth mage at that, broke into the treasury vault, and stole one of the artifacts held within?" Headmaster Osmond groaned and buried his head in his hands. "What a catastrophe."

Within the headmaster's office, there were four people: Osmond and Colbert, who stood behind the elderly headmaster at his desk, and Louise and Kirche, who were facing the two older men on the opposite side. Louise looked plaintively down at the small chicken that she held in her hands.

"To think there would be a thief that would so brazenly attack the Academy. We were too complacent and neglected the possibility." Colbert frowned. "Headmaster, do you think that the thief might have been Foquet?"

"I don't believe so. This thief's method differs far too much to Foquet's," Osmond said, looking back up. "If there's one piece of good news, though, it's that at least no one was hurt."

"Almost no one," Louise interrupted in a sad, quiet voice.

"What do you mean by that, Miss Valliere?" Osmond asked.

Louise held up the chicken she was holding. "This is Ysmir. He became this when he blocked a spell from strange staff meant for me with his own body."

"Great Brimir!" Osmond sucked in a breath. "Then that must mean... Oh. Oh dear. This is not good. This is most definitely not good. In fact, I would venture to say that this is all quite very terrible. Oh dear."

"Headmaster?" Colbert said, looking at the older man. "Do you know what's going on?"

"I do believe I do," Osmond said, his fingers fumbling together nervously. "Whoever that thief is, he has stolen the Staff of Madness."

"Staff of Madness?" Colbert said.

"A very powerful staff given to me thirty years ago by a man who saved me from a wild dragon," Osmond said. "He cast but a single spell with it and it reduced that dragon to ashes."

"Thirty years ago?" Colbert's eyes widened. "But wait, isn't that when _those_ rumors began to spread?"

"Rumors of how I went insane? Yes," Osmond answered. "Make no mistake, though. Those were no mere rumors. I _did_ go insane. The merest touch of that staff is enough for any man or woman to go mad. It was only by chance that I was freed from its influence. After that, I sealed it away and dubbed it the Staff of Madness. If that staff has been set loose, then many lives are in danger."

"Then we need to capture the thief immediately," Louise declared. "I will go and capture that thief and retrieve the Staff of Madness." Anger flashed in Louise's eyes. "I will bring him to justice for the crimes he's committed and for what he did to Ysmir."

The chicken began clucking frantically and fluttered out of Louise's arms. Suddenly, there was a puff of red smoke and Ysmir stood in the room, once more a man.

"Ysmir!" Louise cried out in shock. "You're back!"

"Darling!" Kirche exclaimed joyfully. "Thank goodness you're all right! I can't do anything with a chicken, after all."

Ysmir paid no heed to either of them. Instead, he was clutching his head in between his hands and mumbling frantically to himself.

"The Wabbajack is here? How? Impossible!" Ysmir ranted. "There's no way it can be here. Not the Wabbajack."

"Ysmir, are you all right?" Louise said with concern.

"Physically, yes," Ysmir answered without looking at her. "I'm afraid my mind is still in shock."

"The Wabbajack?" Osmond said. "What's that?"

"It's what you called the Staff of Madness," Ysmir said quickly. "And it's impossible for it to be here."

"You seem sure about that," Osmond frowned. "Why?"

"Because I sealed away the Wabbajack!" Ysmir cried out hysterically.

"Ysmir! Calm down!" Louise said, as she put a gentle hand on his arm. "Take deep breaths. Then slow down and explain everything."

Ysmir looked down at the much smaller girl. For a moment, she could see the frenzy in his eyes before he closed them and took a deep breath.

"Thank you," he said once he reopened his eyes. "I'm calm now."

"Good," Louise said. "Now, what's this about the Wabbajack? What _is_ the Wabbajack?"

Ysmir bit his lower lip in thought for a moment. "It seems I'm going to have to teach you a little bit about Daedras after all," he said to Louise. "Do you recall what I've told you about them?"

"Yes," Louise frowned. "You told me that they're immortal beings that exist somewhere you called 'Oblivion.'"

"Aye," Ysmir said. "What I did not tell you at that time is that the most powerful amongst them are known as the Daedric Lords or Princes. They are, for all intents and purposes, gods."

"That's a rather bold statement to make," Osmond interjected. "Rather heretical, as well. What proof do you have that these gods of yours exist."

Ysmir bared his teeth at the headmaster. "They are no gods of mine. But I know they exist because I have met most of them. I've talked to them. I've accomplished tasks for them. In return, they gave me powerful artifacts as rewards. The problem is that the Wabbajack, what you call the Staff of Madness, was one of them."

Osmond blinked. "You mean to say-"

"Aye," Ysmir said. "The Wabbajack was _mine."_

Osmond frowned at that statement. "But you were not the one who gave me the staff."

"No, I'm not," Ysmir agreed. "And therein lies the problem. I was given the Wabbajack by its maker, Sheogorath, only a few years ago. Yet, the fact remains that you somehow had it here for over thirty years." Ysmir growled and ran a hand through his light brown hair. "That makes no sense! It's impossible!"

"Maybe there are two Wabbajacks?" Louise offered.

"Maybe, though I doubt it," Ysmir replied. "The reason why the daedric artifacts are exceedingly valuable is because they are literally one-of-a-kind. But then again... If it's Sheogorath, he might have made more just because he can." Ysmir growled with frustration. "Dammit. I'm going after the thief."

"I'm going with you," Louise declared.

"As am I," Kirche said.

"No, you are not," Ysmir said firmly. "Neither of you are ready for this."

"Are you saying that we're too weak?" Louise said hotly.

"Quite frankly, yes," Ysmir replied. "That is exactly what I am saying."

"How dare you!"

"Little girl," Ysmir said, "I admire your courage. Truly, I do. But you are still too young. You have yet to temper your courage with the wisdom of experience and you haven't the skills necessary to back up your bold declarations. Without either, all you are left with is sheer recklessness."

"As a noble, I will not stay behind while my familiar goes into battle," Louise said menacingly.

"You might die," Ysmir frowned.

"I. Am. Going. With. You." Louise glared at Ysmir. "And that's final."

"... Fine," Ysmir sighed. "If you're going to be so stubborn about it, I do not have the time to waste convincing you otherwise."

"All right!" Kirche said cheerfully. "That means I'm going, too."

Ysmir grunted and nodded reluctantly.

"In that case, we'll leave the pursuit to you three," Osmond said. "Jean and I will inform the officials. With luck, we'll be able to arrange for reinforcements in time."

"Thank you," Ysmir said. "Come. We leave now."

Turning on his heel, Ysmir quickly walked out of the room. Kirche and Louise followed after him. As they shut the door behind them, Louise heard the headmaster mutter quietly, "But what an awful time for Longueville to disappear. I wonder where she has run off to?"

* * *

><p>"Kirche," Ysmir said impatiently. "What is so important that we must delay our departure to come here?"<p>

"Hey, wait a moment," Louise said. "Why do you call Kirche by her name but you call me 'little girl?'"

"Because her body isn't like that of a little girl's," Ysmir said bluntly.

"What!?" Louise cried out in outrage. "How dare you! I will have you know I am a grown woman, too!"

Ysmir looked over Louise's body.

"You have more growing left to do."

Louise scowled.

"I just _love_ how direct you are, Darling," Kirche giggled.

"I would love it if you would directly answer my question," Ysmir growled. "Why are we back here behind the Academy?"

"Because this is where the familiar stables are located," Kirche said. "If I'm right, she should be here right about now."

"She?" Ysmir frowned.

"Ah, there she is," Kirche said happily. "Tabitha! Hey, Tabitha!"

Standing near the large wooden stables situated on the far end of courtyard, the diminutive, blue-haired girl looked up. Beside her, her dragon familiar squealed in terror and attempted to hide behind Tabitha – a futile move bordering on the comical considering that their sheer size difference.

"What is it?" she said in a quiet voice once they neared her.

"Tabitha, we need Sylphid to help us search for a thief," Kirche explained quickly.

Tabitha shook her head. "Can't."

"Why not?" Kirche asked.

In response, Tabitha pointed at Ysmir and then at the base of Sylphid's wing, which was wrapped in bandages. "Too injured."

"Oh," Kirche frowned. "I see."

"Whatever. We'll just have to use horses," Louise said impatiently. "Come on, let's go."

"No, we've wasted too much time as it is," Ysmir growled. "We fly."

"But, Ysmir," Kirche said, "Sylphid can't fly at the moment."

"I never said we're going to use that beast," Ysmir said. "Stand back. All of you."

Obediently, Louise and Kirche and Tabitha all took a step away from Ysmir. Facing the open and clear courtyard, Ysmir sucked in a breath and then Shouted.

_"Dur Neh Viir!"_

An enormous violet gate burst open in the center of the courtyard. From within that gate, an enormous, draconian head with four curved horns appeared. It was followed by a long, serpentine neck lined with spike-like ridges that ran all across its spine. Two enormous wings were used like legs as the creature lumbered out of the portal. Two powerful legs came after, and a long, strong tail last.

Louise and all those there, save Ysmir himself, stood in shock of the dragon. It was unlike any dragon they had ever seen before. It was as massive as the fabled elder dragons and its eyes shone with wicked intelligence. Its skin, mottled grey as it was, almost appeared to be rotting. No, in fact, it _was_ rotting. The smell was testament to that fact, forcing them to wrinkle their noses in disgust.

Rather than a dragon, this was more like the putrid corpse of a dragon.

The familiars, who had all been making loud noises of fear with the appearance of the dragon, immediately fell silent when it cast its gaze over them.

And then, to their utter amazement, the dragon _spoke._

"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," the rotting dragon said in a gravelly, basso voice.

"Greetings, Wuthzeymah," Ysmir returned solemnly. "It has been long since we've last spoken."

"Perhaps in your mortal mind," the dragon chuckled softly, a sound like that of the footsteps of a giant. "For we Dov, such a time is but a flicker." It rumbled like thunder. "Hm... But then, no other of our kind has ever made their home in the Soul Cairn, where the passing of each second is an eternity. Krosis. I digress. You have called for me, Dovahkiin, and I have answered your summons. What would you have me do?"

"I seek to pursue a thief who has stolen the Wabbajack," Ysmir said. "I would have you take us upon your back in flight."

"The Wabbajack." The dragon bared its yellowed teeth, its rancid breath washing over those there like a physical force, causing all save Ysmir to reel back in disgust. "Very well, then, Dovahkiin. I will carry you and your pack."

Ysmir returned the gesture, baring his own teeth in a menacing smile. "Gratitude."

* * *

><p>"You can summon dragons."<p>

Ysmir looked at Louise with a curious expression. "When did I ever say I could not?"

"How was I supposed to expect that you can summon dragons!?" Louise shrieked incredulously.

"Dragon," Ysmir corrected. "Singular. I can only summon Durnehviir. Odahviing is too far away for me to call for."

"That's not the point!" Louise cried out, flailing her arms about wildly.

"Little girl, are you all right?" Ysmir asked with concern.

"I'm not a little girl!" Louise sighed and rubbed her temples. "Okay, so considering that you had to have summoned this dragon, I take it that you used Conjuration magic to do it?"

"A good guess," Ysmir smiled. "But no, this was not a feat of Conjuration magic. What I used was the Thu'um."

"The Thu'um?" Louise frowned. "You mentioned that before. What is it?"

"I'm curious, too," Kirche said with fascination. "You certainly are a treasure box of surprises, aren't you, Darling? It's like every time I'm with you, I learn something that makes me want you even more."

"Focus," Tabitha said, tapping Kirche lightly on the head with her staff. Ysmir tipped his head gratefully towards the petite child. She blinked, and very slightly returned the gesture.

"The Thu'um is what we Nords call the Voice; the Dragon Shout," Ysmir said. "It is the magic that dragons wield that allows them to bring forth changes by speaking it into existence."

"I don't understand," Louise said. "What do you mean by that?"

"When I create fire with Destruction magic," Ysmir held up a hand and fire suddenly lit up and danced about in his grasp, "I am actually changing a portion of my magicka into fire. The Thu'um is different. With it, fire itself is spoken into existence, from nothingness."

"How is that even possible?" Louise said, eyes wide with wonder.

"The dragons are the children of Akatosh, who is the chief of the gods who created this world," Ysmir said. "Is it any wonder, then, that their very language can hold such unfathomable power?"

Tabitha cocked her head. "Heresy."

Louise and Ysmir both stared at Tabitha quizzically. Kirche, on the other hand, nodded once in understanding.

"Tabitha is right," Kirche said with a serious expression on her face. "Ysmir, you must not say such things in public from now on. If you do, you could become subject to a heresy trial. Your life would be in danger."

"I will not hide my beliefs out of fear," Ysmir said firmly. "I praise and worship the Nine Divines and I am not ashamed of it."

"No, they're right," Louise said urgently. "You must not say such heretical things. Not just you, but all those you've even talked to would come under suspicion as being potential heretics."

"... Point taken," Ysmir said grudgingly. "I would not enjoy endangering others needlessly, especially when it can be so easily avoided."

"Good," Louise breathed out a sigh of relief. She glanced down at the dragon's body she was riding atop. "But you know, I've never heard of the dragons having their own language before. Actually, I didn't know that dragons could speak at all."

Tabitha twitched, unnoticed by the others.

"As I said before," Ysmir said, "what you call dragons and what I call dragons are two very different beings. The fact that your dragons age is proof of that fact."

"You mean dragons where you're from don't?" Kirche interjected.

"Aye," Ysmir said. "They are the children of Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. As such, they are immortal beings that do not bow to the flow of time as we mortals do. They do not change. They do not age. They do not die."

"What do you mean that they don't die?" Louise asked. "You told me yourself that you're a dragon hunter. You told me that you killed dragons before." Louise scowled. "Were you lying to me?"

"Nay, I was not," Ysmir said. "I speak nothing but the truth. Dragons do not die and I killed dragons."

"Contradiction," Tabitha said, a curious look in her eyes. She frowned for a moment, before pointing at Ysmir. "Dovahkiin?"

Ysmir and Louise both looked to Kirche, who supplied an explanation. "She was asking if it has anything to do with the fact that this dragon called you 'Dovahkiin.'"

"A sharp girl," Ysmir said approvingly. "Yes, it has everything to do with that. As I said before, dragons cannot die. Even if their bodies are reduced to ashes, their soul lives on. That alone is enough to bring them back to life. The only way to truly kill them is to destroy their soul. That is what the Dovahkiin does. In the language of dragons, it means 'Dragonborn,' and it refers to one who is born with the blood and soul of a dragon and the body of a mortal. This is what allows the Dragonborn to consume a fellow dragon's soul."

Ysmir looked at Louise. "You wanted a dragon. You got what you wanted." He looked at Kirche and bared his teeth. "You mocked her for summoning a dragon unlike any other. You have no idea how right you were."

"Ha! Take that, Zerbst!" Louise said proudly. "I told you I'd summon a dragon!"

"Yes, yes. You were right," Kirche said easily. She turned a seductive gaze upon Ysmir. "Hm... I'm more curious about how ferocious your 'dragon' can be at night."

She winked at him. He averted his gaze and pointedly ignored her.

"Qahnaarin," Durnehviir said, and they all felt the rumbling pass beneath them where they sat. "I believe I have found the tafiir you seek."

Ysmir peered over Durnehviir's side and looked down at the earth far below them. Amidst the buildings of a large city, an enormous stone golem was rampaging throughout the streets, destroying buildings with every passing of its fists. From atop the golem, a cloaked figure stood. In his hand was the Wabbajack.

Ysmir snarled wordlessly when he saw the thief turn the Wabbajack upon a terrified, fleeing woman, reducing her to ashes.

"Look! He's heading for the palace!" Louise said, pointing towards the immaculate castle that stood in the distance. "Founder Brimir! The princess is in danger!"

"Durnehviir," Ysmir said, as he crawled up to the base of the dragon's neck. "Destroy the golem."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Dovahkiin," the rotting dragon replied. "I fear my time in this plane is nearly over. Soon I must return to the Soul Cairn."

"Dammit," Ysmir swore. "Can you drop us off over there, at least?" Ysmir pointed towards where a group of soldiers were assembling in front of the palace.

"I can," Durnehviir said. "But pray tell, while I still have time, I wish to ask you something."

"What is it?"

Durnehviir glanced back at Ysmir.

"Why are you no longer in Vus?"

* * *

><p>When a dragon whose very flesh was in decay landed, Henrietta had no idea what to make of it. All she knew was that Agnes was shouting at her to step back while the Musketeers moved to guard her from the beast, their muskets drawn and ready to fire. But when her childhood friend, Louise, jumped off of the dragon, along with a man and two other Academy students, all Henrietta could feel was confusion.<p>

"Your Highness!" Louise called out, as she ran over to her. Agnes moved to stand in her way protectively, but Henrietta quickly waved her down. "Your Highness, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Henrietta said. "But, Louise, what are you doing here? And where did that dragon come from?"

"We're here to stop the thief who stole the Staff of Madness from the Academy's treasury vault," Louise replied. "As for the dragon... It's... It's a bit of a long story. I guess you could say it's my familiar's familiar."

"Your familiar's familiar?" Henrietta blinked. "How is that even possible?"

"That explanation can wait until next time," the man suddenly said, as he approached the two. "Are you the one in charge?"

"I am," Henrietta said, bemused. "I am Princess Henrietta de Tristain."

"I am Ysmir," the man replied. "Have the civilians been evacuated yet?"

"Now see here," Agnes objected. "One does not simply walk up to the princess and speak with her without permission."

Ysmir glared at Agnes. "We do not have time for etiquette and protocols when innocent lives are at risk. You demand permission? _There_ is my permission," he said, jerking a thumb over to the rotting dragon. It bared its yellowed teeth in an ominous grin. "Now tell me, how is the evacuation going?"

Henrietta held up a hand towards Agnes when it looked like she would protest again. She looked up at the taller man and spoke. "My people are still at work getting as many of the citizens out of the immediate danger area as possible. Fortunately, the earth mage seems intent on attacking the palace and has been making a direct line towards it, so only those in his path have been at risk. We are currently preparing to meet the mage in battle."

"Where are the mage knights, Your Highness?" Louise asked. "Surely they can stop him."

Henrietta grimaced. "Either dead or transformed into beasts by that strange staff of his. I've ordered the rest to retreat and regroup."

"If they've been transformed, they'll return to normal after a time," Ysmir said offhandedly. "More importantly, focus on rescuing the civilians." Ysmir turned to stare at the golem far in the distance with a steel expression. "I will stop him."

"Yes, that dragon of yours could certainly stop the golem," Henrietta agreed.

Just as she said those words, purple fire suddenly enveloped the rotting dragon. Instead of howling in pain, the dragon merely bowed its head respectfully towards Ysmir and then disappeared without a trace, seemingly consumed by the fire in its entirety.

"Ah... Never mind," Henrietta murmured, eyes wide.

"It changes nothing," Ysmir said dismissively. "I will go and stop the thief. Rally your people and get them away from here."

"You mean to fight alone and unarmed?" Henrietta said. "It's suicide! I mean you no insult, but you should stay back and hide somewhere safe."

"I thank you for your concern," Ysmir smiled. "But I'm afraid I must return those words to you all. I ask that none of you get in my way."

"But I see neither weapon nor wand on you," Henrietta frowned. "What will you do without them or your dragon?"

Ysmir smiled at her before turning away to face the golem.

_"Mul Qah Diiv!"_

Ethereal energies roared as they appeared out of thin air and swirled about Ysmir like wind. Quickly, they coalesced, cladding him in an ethereal suit of armor forged in the effigy of a dragon. Even from a distance, one could practically feel the sudden rise in the power that Ysmir radiated from his very skin, and there were none there that did not take at least a slight step back in awe.

"Rest assured, Princess," Ysmir said and summoned a ghostly blade to his hand, "I will win."

* * *

><p>Ysmir concentrated on his target standing atop of the golem's head. Even from where he was, he could hear the madman's cackling, as he flung spells with both wand and staff left and right. Simultaneously, his golem crushed everything that stood within reach. But even in his mad glee, he did not fail to notice Ysmir's swift approach.<p>

Bolts of lightning, bursting explosions, familiar red lights, and, of all things, wheels of cheese cast from the Wabbajack rained down upon him like a storm, while at the same time the ground itself erupted into stone spikes that surged towards him like a wave. He dodged the Wabbajack's spells with light, nimble movements that one would not have expected from a man of his size. The stone spikes, on the other hand, he simply ignored and crashed through. When stone met ethereal armor, it was the stone that crumbled, while Ysmir emerged unscathed.

The golem made its move then. Rearing back, it brought one titanic fist down towards the Dragonborn, threatening to crush him as a man would an ant.

Bracing himself, Ysmir spread his arms wide and met the fist with his entire body. Like a fortress wall, he stood against the enormous power of the blow, grunting as he pushed with all his strength against it. The fist pushed him back one feet, then two, and his feet carved trenches into the earth. But in the end, that was all the golem could do. Ysmir stood unharmed.

Circling around to the side of the fist, Ysmir swung down his ghostly blade with all his strength. Stone shattered underneath his blow, and the entire fist was brutally severed at the wrist. The sheer force of Ysmir's strike had rent the stone apart.

More spells came down upon him.

"Feim!" Ysmir Shouted, and the spells passed through him harmlessly. A moment after, his ghostly form returned to a corporeal one.

Ysmir charged towards the golem's legs and ripped through one at the ankle with a single swing. The golem was destabilized, but he could see that already the damage was beginning to repair itself.

It was not able to repair itself fast enough to stand against his Voice.

_"Fus Ro Dah!"_

With the sound of ripping thunder, waves of pure force followed the wake of his Shout. They reverberated loudly, heard for miles all around. Force met stone in a hammer blow, and the construct that weighed several tons flew back and fell to the ground with earthshaking power. Clouds of dust were raised, obstructing his vision. He narrowed his eyes and strained to see through it. Shadows formed within the dust cloud and a dozen man-sized golems emerged. They were not at all as refined in appearance as Guiche's Valkyries, but what they lacked in appearance, they made up for with menacing bulk.

Even so, they would hardly be a challenge at all. Or so he had thought.

Red lights flashed from the dust cloud and each one hit a golem. In a burst of crimson mist, each of them transformed into something else.

Two of them turned into hideous half-spider, half-woman creatures.

Three of them were made into daedroth, enormous, hulking creatures that resembled crocodiles which walked on two legs.

Four became dremora clad in hellish armor and wielding flame enchanted greatswords.

Two more also became dremora, though these ones were clad in black robes and wielded wicked, thorny staffs.

The last turned into a goat, and it bleated loudly as it pranced away from the fight.

Ysmir dismissed his summoned blade and cast a spell with both hands. Twin gateways of violet fire appeared. From within them, two skeletal warriors clad in ancient steel armor and eyes burning with unholy magics stepped forth.

"Go," Ysmir commanded, and the wrathmen readied their battleaxes and charged into battle without a single utterance. The daedra howled their rage and met them with murder in their eyes.

The first to fall was a daedroth who had become strayed a tad too far ahead of its allies. A wrathman struck it down with a swing of its battleaxe which spilled the reptilian daedra's guts onto the earth. The second undead warrior flung itself at a sword wielding dremora. The two clashed, axe against sword. For a moment, the two seemed to be in a deadlock, their strength evenly matched. But then the wrathman held up one rotting hand to the dremora's face and unleashed a blast of hoarfrost. The dremora stumbled backwards and was cleaved apart for its troubles.

Despite the initial success, the battle quickly turned against Ysmir's summoned warriors. Strong though the wrathmen were, they were not strong enough to overcome the sheer numbers their daedric counterparts possessed. The spider-women lunged at one wrathmen together and bit their venomous fangs into it. Given that the wrathmen were undead and no blood flowed through their desiccated veins, all the spider daedra did was hold it down.

But that was enough.

The staff wielding daedra all simultaneously unleashed blasts of hellfire upon the wrathman and they reduced it to ashes in a matter of seconds.

The second wrathman fared no better. The remaining daedroth simultaneously rushed it, tackling it down and clawing it to pieces.

In lieu of true death, the remains of both wrathmen burned with violet flames and returned to the Soul Cairn. The daedra then turned to Ysmir, intent on resuming their hunt. He met them with a smile on his lips. Ice and cold mist danced around him in testament to the power of the spell he held ready. If the daedra felt fear, then they showed no sign of it, even as Ysmir unleashed his magic.

A blizzard erupted around Ysmir in a swirling hemisphere that shredded all caught within its radius. Buildings were broken down, the surface of the earth ripped apart, and the daedra were cut into pieces. When the storm died away, each daedra was left behind as a frozen corpse, little more than large icicles.

Ysmir frowned, as he looked around the area. The thief was nowhere to be seen. Had he fled while he had been preoccupied? Possible. In which case, he would need to quickly track him down.

The faint sound of shifting dirt caught Ysmir's attention and he whirled around to face it.

Standing behind him, emerged from the earth, the thief aimed the grey staff at him.

"Wabbajack," he chanted, and then an explosion sent Ysmir flying backwards like an arrow. He did not stop until he crashed straight through the wall of a small, wooden building.

"Tch," Ysmir grunted. Thanks to his armor, he was not injured, but it annoyed him having been ambushed like that.

Ysmir pursed his lips together tightly. This was worrying. The more time that passed, the more the thief became accustomed to the power of the Wabbajack. The fact that the thief had transformed his golems into powerful daedras with only one mistake was proof of that.

The fact of the matter was that the Wabbajack was an inherently unpredictable and uncontrollable artifact. It possessed a wide variety of spells that it could cast every time it was used, and the wielder could not choose which of those spells was used. It was part of the reason why Ysmir considered it one of the most dangerous of the daedric artifacts, as not all of its spells were beneficial to its wielder. In the truest sense of the word, to wield the Wabbajack was to gamble with one's own life.

However, while it was true that the Wabbajack could not be entirely controlled, it was possible to influence its probability, giving more weight towards a specific outcome. It was still a gamble every time the staff was used, but it was one that was much more in favor of its user.

He needed to hurry. He needed to wrest away the Wabbajack before something catastrophic happened.

"Hey, can you get your big fat lard off of me now?"

Ysmir fairly bolted up in shock.

"Who's there?" he called out cautiously as he looked around the building he was in. Due to his smashing entrance, most of the shop's wares were scattered around the floor. Those wares consisted mostly of swords, spears, and other weaponry. An arms shop.

"Down here."

Ysmir tracked down the source of the tinny voice with his eyes. He blinked when he found it. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the rusty sword he had been sitting on moments earlier, his runes glowing when he did.

"Did you... Did you just talk to me?" Ysmir said, looking carefully over the sword.

"Of course I did," the sword replied impatiently, its quillon moving like a mouth. "What, you blind or something?"

"Forgive me," Ysmir said, feeling entirely strange for apologizing to a sword. "I am not accustomed to my blades being so... vocal."

"Yeah, well, none of your other blades have ever been as awesome as I am," the sword crowed proudly. "Me! The great Derflinger!"

"Um... Right..." Ysmir slowly began to set down the sword on a nearby counter. "I apologize for disturbing you. I'll just go ahead and leave you here for your owner and go now."

"What? Hey! Don't leave me here!" Derflinger cried out frantically. "Take me with you! Do you know how long I've been stuck in this dump? I'm a sword, dammit! I don't want to just rust away in this sleazy shop forever!"

"... I must confess," Ysmir said, "I am not at all sure how I should feel about a sword that needs to beg in order to be wielded."

"Don't be like that, Partner," Derflinger whined. "C'mon. Take me with you. I promise to be the best partner you could ever want."

"Well..." Ysmir hesitated. "All right. I suppose it can't hurt."

The sword cheered. "Hooray!"

Shaking his head in disbelief all the while, Ysmir picked up the sword and walked out of the ruined shop. Looking up, he saw that the thief was waiting for him in the middle of the ruined street. The moment he emerged, the thief slung a ball of red light from the tip of the Wabbajack at him.

Immediately, Ysmir moved his spare hand to form a ward to deflect the spell, but was interrupted when Derflinger shouted out, "Partner! Use me to block!"

Instinctively, Ysmir hastened to obey. He raised the rusting sword before him. To his great surprise, the blade _absorbed_ the Wabbajack's spell. A mere instant later, that surprise was suppressed and ignored. He was in battle right now and he could not afford to be distracted.

With quick steps, Ysmir closed the distance between the two. The mage aimed his wand at him, but Ysmir sliced it in half with a single flash of his sword. He then raised the Wabbajack, but Ysmir grabbed it tightly around the haft and aimed it away from him.

"Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wa... bba..." the thief twitched. And then, in a soft, pleading voice, he whispered, "S-save m-me."

Ysmir punched the thief's face with one armored fist. Bones shattered and the thief dropped to the ground, his grip on the staff considerably slackened. With a strong twist and pull, Ysmir wrenched it out of the mage's hands.

And then immediately thereafter, the world all around him faded from view, replaced instead by a scene of a grey, dead forest. At its center, there was a large table bedecked with all manners of fine food. And seated at its head was a grinning man dressed in a flamboyant orange and purple costume.

Ysmir bared his teeth.

"Sheogorath."

* * *

><p>"Louise," Henrietta marveled at the scene they were watching, "who <em>is<em> he?"

From where they stood, Henrietta, Agnes, and Louise and her two companions were watching Ysmir fight against the crazed mage and the golem. The rest of the Musketeers had already fanned out, splitting either to aid in the evacuation of the citizens or to prepare for an ambush in case Ysmir lost – an event that seemed increasingly unlikely the more the fight progressed.

"His name is Ysmir, Your Highness," Louise said. "I summoned him as my familiar from another continent."

"Yes, but _who_ is he?" Henrietta repeated.

Louise frowned, contemplating how to best answer that question. "In his land, he was a dragon hunter and a powerful mage and warrior."

"So he's a noble, then?" Henrietta said. She winced as she witnessed an explosion sent him crashing into a nearby shop.

"No, Your Highness," Louise said. "His people's society is strange. Over there, magic is looked down upon and their nobles do not use it."

At that, Henrietta raised an eyebrow. "Most strange, indeed."

From the shop, Ysmir emerged bearing a sword. Then moments later, the battle was done.

* * *

><p>It was in the palace's throne room where Louise and the others found themselves at in order to debrief the events that had led to the thief's rampage – the thief whom they had learned after her capture was actually Miss Longueville, Headmaster Osmond's youthful secretary.<p>

"I see," Henrietta murmured from where she sat on the throne. "So the Staff of Madness is an artifact from your homeland."

"No," Ysmir replied, standing beside Louise, before the princess. "It is from Oblivion. It was last seen in my country."

"I must confess," Henrietta said, "that your tale is one that is hard to swallow. I can accept that you've been summoned here from another continent, but to speak of the existence of this 'Oblivion' and 'Daedric Lords' is disturbing, to say the least. Neither the Church nor the Book of Brimir has ever mentioned such things before."

"I speak only the truth," Ysmir said. "I have been to the realms of Oblivion personally. I have met and spoken to the Daedric Lords. If you'd like, I can summon a daedra for you to speak to."

"No, I think I will pass on your offer," Henrietta said. She smiled at him and rose to her feet. "Sir Ysmir, on behalf of the people of Tristain, I thank you for your services. Without your help, many more might have suffered a far more tragic fate."

Ysmir inclined his head in acceptance of the gratitude. "Your thanks is appreciated. But what of the Wabbajack?"

"I will have it sealed away within my personal vault, which will be guarded at all times by skilled mage knights," Henrietta replied. "It will never see the light of day again."

"That is well," Ysmir said. "Some things simply are not meant for mere mortals to wield, but those who make artifacts such as the Wabbajack seldom care for such truths."

"An interesting philosophy," Henrietta said. "In any case, you must be given a reward for your deeds. Sir Ysmir, I wish to grant unto you the title of Chevalier."

Louise sucked in a breath of surprise and Ysmir glanced at her for a moment before turning back.

"Chevalier?" he said. "I'm afraid that I'm not familiar with such a title, nor its responsibilities. Should I accept, what would be expected of me?"

"A Chevalier's title would grant you a noble's status," Henrietta explained. "A minor noble, to be sure, but a noble nevertheless. As such, you would receive the annual stipend most nobles receive, along with most other privileges being of the nobility confers. In return, you would answer only to the royal family and those under their direct command."

"Ah. I see," Ysmir murmured softly. "In that case, I must refuse."

"Wait, what?" Louise blurted out. "You're going to refuse the princess's offer? You could be a noble!"

"Yes, darling," Kirche said solemnly. "You ought to accept. Then we can be married without any problems."

Louise gave her a flat look. Ysmir ignored both of them.

"I have no intentions of becoming tied to a foreign country," Ysmir said, looking straight at Henrietta. "I thank you for the gesture, but I reject it."

"Is that so?" Henrietta said. If she was disappointed, she did not show it in neither her posture nor her inflection. "However, the fact remains that I must reward you for your actions. If there is anything that is within my power to grant, ask of it."

Ysmir frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

"The thief. Longueville," Ysmir said slowly, "what will happen to her?"

"For her crimes, she will be executed," Henrietta said with a grimace. "In her rampage, nearly threescore people died, and that's not including the dozens of knights she killed."

"Then I ask for her full pardon."

All those there stared at Ysmir with a dumbfounded expression.

"You would seek to save a mass murderer and a thief?" Henrietta asked with wonder.

"Nay," Ysmir said. "I would seek to save an innocent woman who was unwillingly controlled by the maddening influence of the Wabbajack from an undeserved fate. Stronger men and women than she have fallen prey to its power before."

"You're saying that it was the staff that caused her to commit such atrocities?" Henrietta arched an eyebrow. "Staffs do not do that."

"When they are forged by Daedric Lords, they can," Ysmir countered.

"That would not hold up in a court of law," Henrietta replied. "You say the Daedric Lords exist, but you will find no one in Halkeginia who believes in such beings."

"So you would condemn an innocent woman?" Ysmir asked.

"Our investigations have shown no signs of mental tampering within the prisoner. In accordance with our laws, she is not innocent."

Ysmir growled with frustration. "Is there no other way around this?" he said. "I would be loathe to see a person die for actions unwillingly committed."

Henrietta pursed her lips together and sadly shook her head. "I am sorry. I do wish to help you, but I cannot overturn the laws in order to do so."

"Your Highness, if I may speak?" Agnes said. The princess nodded at her, and she inclined her head respectfully in return. "Perhaps instead of execution, we could give her a chance at atonement."

"What do you have in mind?" Henrietta said.

"The..." Agnes glanced over at the others in the room briefly, "... _task_ that you gave me. I would welcome a skilled earth mage for support. It would open a myriad of options in the event of any contingencies."

Henrietta narrowed her eyes. "And you think that she will accept that offer?"

"There is no harm in presenting her with a choice," Agnes replied. "If all goes well, and if she proves that she can be trusted, perhaps we could offer her a special position in the Musketeer Corps."

"And if she attempts to flee or betray us?"

"She'll regret it." Agnes flashed her teeth and placed a hand on the butt of the pistol holstered at her side. "Briefly."

"I see..." Henrietta said, a calculating gleam flashing in her eyes. "I can trust you on this, Agnes?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Agnes said.

"Very well, then." Henrietta looked back to Ysmir. "Although I cannot grant her a full royal pardon, as reward for your actions, the thief and murderess, Longueville, will be given a stay from execution and temporarily released on probation. Furthermore, her continued freedom will be contingent on her service to the crown. Will that suffice?"

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Thank you, Your Highness."

He bowed his head slightly, a gesture that conveyed respect but neither subordination nor subservience. Henrietta smiled and returned the gesture equally.

"I thank you once more on behalf of Tristain, Sir Ysmir," Henrietta said. "You may go now, and may Founder Brimir light your path."

* * *

><p>Matilda punched the stone wall of her prison cell with impotent anger. She had always known that she faced the risk of capture and execution as Foquet the Crumbling Dirt, the greatest thief in Halkeginia, but she had never expected it to happen in this manner.<p>

To be seized with a single, overriding directive that compelled her to move in ways not of her own design. To be saved from that maddening fate only to be condemned to death. The total lack of control on her part infuriated her. If it had been truly she who had been captured and not some mind controlled puppet, then she would not have felt this way. Not completely, anyway. She could have accepted her fate with a quiet grace. But this? This was like being a leaf helplessly tossed about by the whipping winds of a hurricane. She had no control over her fate. None at all. She hated this feeling.

Matilda collapsed on her flat, uncomfortable bed.

What made this entire experience all the more worse was that while under the influence of the Wabbajack, she had killed so many people. Dozens, scores of innocent lives had been ended by her hands. Even though she had been insane at the time, she could recall everything with perfect, vexing clarity.

She was a thief, not a murderess, dammit. She had never wanted to kill anyone, especially not guiltless commoners.

_So this is it,_ she sighed. _I'm going to be executed for things I did not want to do. Dammit. This sucks._

The sound of the opening of the dungeon's door caught Matilda's attention. Striding into the room was a lean, blonde woman garbed in chainmail and a Chevalier's cloak. At her side was a sword and a pistol, indicating that she was one of the princess's personal knight corp, the Musketeers – a group renowned for the uniqueness of the fact that they were formed entirely of commoners.

"What do you want?" Matilda said bitterly.

The blonde woman stared at her. For a brief moment, Matilda felt the impression of a hawk studying its quarry.

"Longueville," she said. "I am Agnes Chevalier de Milan, Captain of the Tristain Musketeer Corps. I come to you with an offer."

"And what kind of offer would you make to a condemned woman?" Matilda said. Spitefully, she added, "If it's my body you're after, I refuse."

"In a manner of speaking, that is precisely what I want," Agnes said. "These are your options: You may either stay here and await your execution, or you may join me on a mission in service of Tristain. Should we succeed, you will be released on probation. Depending on further services, you may eventually be granted a full pardon."

"Generous," Matilda said, narrowing her eyes. "What's the catch?"

Agnes arched an eyebrow. "There are none. Everything is as I described."

Matilda shook her head. "I don't buy it. There has to be a catch. There's no way you lot would make me this offer otherwise."

"If it wasn't for Ysmir, then we would not be having this discussion at all," Agnes said coolly.

"Ysmir?" Matilda cocked her head. "Who's that?"

"The man who stopped your rampage and captured you," Agnes replied. "The same man who pleaded for your life."

Matilda blinked blankly. "He did that? For me?"

"He did."

"Why?"

Agnes's lips curled up at its ends ever so slightly. "I asked him the same thing, you know. He told me that it is because you asked him to save you. He also wanted me to relay to you a message."

"What is it?"

"'I know what the Wabbajack does and I know that you are guiltless of its crimes. Forgive me that I cannot do more than this to save you,' is what he said."

Matilda went still. The shock of the words were such that she could scarcely believe what she knew she had heard.

"He actually tried to save me," Matilda whispered in wonderment. "He really did."

"So. What will it be?" Agnes asked quietly.

Matilda looked at the musketeer and nodded. "Let me out of this cage. I accept."


	5. Chapter 4 - Lessons in Magic

**Chapter 4 – Lessons in Magic**

_To my beloved younger sister, Louise,_

_To start with, I am pleased to hear that you have successfully summoned your own familiar. As for your concerns for my health, while appreciated, are unnecessary. Father has recently bought a new medicine that has been most effective in treating my symptoms. The next time you return home, let's go on a picnic, just the two of us. _

_Now, in regards to the main contents of your letter, I must confess I am puzzled by your situation. I have never heard of a human being summoned as a familiar, much less one being brought forth from an entirely separate continent. Still, if it's you who says this, I know I can believe you and I commiserate with your concerns. However, you did not write this letter in search of sympathies. You wrote because you wanted advice. Thus, here is my advice to you._

_Do not be ashamed of having such a powerful familiar. Do not grieve for the fact that you cannot control him. You must understand, your familiar is wholly unique. He is not a beast who moves only by instincts. He is human. He thinks, he feels, he makes decisions for himself. Therefore, he cannot be trained like an animal. To treat him as such would be foolish. You must accept this fact: outright control is an impossibility. _

_So what can you do? It is simple. Do not think of him as merely your servant. Think of him as a friend. A partner. Perhaps even a teacher. You are young, Louise, and you have yet to experience the world as he has. The fact that you summoned who you did is a unique opportunity for you to grow. So learn from him. Learn _of_ him. In turn, teach him as well. Teach him of our people, our culture, and give him a chance to learn from you. I think you'll find that, in time, such a bond would be far more cherished and far stronger than any normal master-familiar relationship. _

_While we're on the topic of learning, here's an idea: Why not try to learn his people's magic? Since he is a mage, one skilled enough to run his own school at that, he should be more than qualified to teach you. _

_It's just an idle thought, and whatever you choose to do I will not think any less of you._

_Your loving older sister,_

_Cattleya_

* * *

><p>Ysmir sat alone in the Vestri Courtyard with a trouble expression on his face. He was not contemplating, he realized, so much as he was brooding. Where once he had been calm and collected, he now found himself confused and distressed.<p>

When he had first arrived in Halkeginia, he had not been overly concerned. Quite the opposite, he had been excited to have the chance to explore a new continent and had not put much thought in actually trying to return home. But that reaction had been based on certain assumptions that he had made unconsciously. Assumptions that he now realized were mistaken.

This was not his world.

Ysmir buried his face into his hands and moaned.

* * *

><p>"<em>Sheogorath," Ysmir hissed.<em>

"_Ysmir, my boy!" the Daedric Lord said joyfully. "Come, sit with me. Eat with me. Partake of my cheese."_

_With a growl, the Nord stalked over to the dinner table and sat himself down. However, he did not take any of the food presented there. Instead, he glared only at the Daedric Prince of Madness._

"_What are you doing here?" He shook the grey staff in his hand angrily. "What is this doing here?"_

"_Why are you so angry?" Sheogorath said plaintively. "All I wanted was to share some cheese with my best buddy."_

"_You gave me the Wabbajack," Ysmir spat out. "Even if I choose not to carry it with me, it is still mine. Why have you taken it from me and put it in this faraway land? Explain this most base theft."_

"_Why?" Sheogorath cocked his head. "Well, I guess it's just because I felt like it."_

_Ysmir ground his teeth together as the mad Daedric Prince laughed loudly in this lonely place they were in. _

"_Oh, don't give me that look," Sheogorath said. He rolled his eyes at how Ysmir continued to glare daggers at him. "Fine, I'll tell you everything, but only if you have some of my cheese. I tried my hardest preparing this for you, you know." _

_Grudgingly, Ysmir grabbed a random piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth. Seeing that, Sheogorath nodded satisfactorily and smiled widely._

"_My dear boy, did you really think I would be satisfied seeing my most magnificent work locked away in a dusty, forgotten crypt?" Sheogorath snorted. "I made the Wabbajack to spread madness and fun in a boring world. But what did you do with my gift? Practically threw it away, the nerve of you. For shame, Dragonborn. For shame."_

"_What I do with what is mine is for me to decide," Ysmir snapped back. "If you disagree with my decisions, then you should not have given it to me in the first place."_

"_That's just being unfair," Sheogorath pouted. "It's not like I can see into the future. I'm pretty sure that nasty tentacle monster Hermaeus Mora can, but not me."_

"_That," Ysmir said icily, "is not my problem."_

"_Jerk," Sheogorath said and stuck his tongue out at him. _

_Ysmir ignored that childish retort from the godlike being in front of him. _

"_I have another question I want you to answer," Ysmir said. "The Wabbajack was in this land thirty years ago up until the present day. How is that possible when you gave it to me so very recently?"_

"_Hm... Well, ain't that a mystery?" Sheogorath winked at him. _

"_You...!"_

"_Oh, calm down, will you?" Sheogorath grumbled. "Yeesh. Mortals these days. Gotta have every little answer handed to them on a silver plate. No sense of initiative or independence at all. Why, in _my _day, they "_

"_Are you going to tell me or not?" Ysmir said impatiently, interrupting Sheogorath's ranting._

"_Fine," Sheogorath sighed. "You are Dragonborn."_

"_I know I am," Ysmir said. "If you thought to surprise me with that revelation, you missed your chance years ago."_

_In response, Sheogorath shook his head. "You are Dragonborn, yet you do not understand. Your blood and soul is kin to the dragons. Therefore, like the dragons, you too are uniquely attuned to the flow of time."_

"_What are you trying to say?"_

"_What I'm saying is that while in your eyes you've been here for only a few days, in Tamriel, you've been gone for many years."_

_Ysmir made a choking sound. "What? How is that possible?"_

_Sheogorath rolled his eyes. "I just told you, you nincompoop, and I don't like repeating myself. Unless I'm asking for more cheese. Then I'll repeat myself all I want. You can never have enough cheese, after all. Why, just for fun, I once filled the castle in Skingrad with all the cheese!"_

"_You must be lying."_

"_I would never lie about my cheese," Sheogorath said gravely._

"_Not that!" Ysmir snapped impatiently. _

_Sheogorath grinned and rolled his eyes. "I'm the Daedric Prince of Madness, boy, not the Daedric Prince of Deceit," he said. "And as charming as that chap Boethiah might be, he is still nowhere near as good looking as I am."_

_In a daze, Ysmir leaned back against his chair. _

"_What you mean to say is that I truly am in the future?" _

"_Ironic, isn't it?" Sheogorath mused. "That overgrown lizard, Alduin, had something similar happen to him, didn't he?"_

"_How far have I been flung forward?" _

"_Oh, a few years. Maybe a few decades. Perhaps a century. Or two. Or three. Might be more. Might be less. I forget." Sheogorath shrugged. "It's been long enough that I decided you were not going to return, so I took back my favorite little toy."_

"_Bastard," Ysmir growled._

"_That's mean," Sheogorath said. "And rude, too. You shouldn't be rude to someone who could turn you into a block of cheese."_

_Ysmir snarled and rose from his seat. "If you are done with your prattling, you will send me back now."_

"_Sure, sure," Sheogorath sighed. Then he put one fist on an open hand. "Oh, there is one more thing."_

"_What is it now?"_

"_You seem to laboring under the belief that you were summoned to another continent. You are wrong."_

"_What do you mean by that?" Ysmir said. "How am I wrong?"_

_Sheogorath grinned with an irrepressible mirth._

"_My dear boy, you are in Oblivion."_

* * *

><p>Ysmir sighed almost painfully. Leave it to the Daedric Prince of Madness to leave his mind in a state of total disarray. This was a disaster. To think that he was no longer in Nirn, but Oblivion instead. Ordinarily, he would not have been so quick to believe one such as Sheogorath, but Durnehviir's words rang in his mind, confirming Sheogorath's damning claim.<p>

"_Why are you no longer in Vus?"_ he had said.

It appeared that he would have to apologize to the little girl later. It seemed that her summoning spell was, in fact, like his Conjuration spells. Only... in reverse.

In wonder, Ysmir looked around the courtyard. This place... it looked _nothing_ like any of the other realms of Oblivion. It had no unreal beauty, no hellish landscapes, no impossible sights. This land, Halkeginia, in almost every way, was like that of Tamriel. And yet, it was not. No matter how closely it might resemble the mortal realm, this was still one of the many planes of Oblivion.

But if that was the case, what did that make of the people here? The little girl. Siesta. Kirche. Henrietta. They looked so very much like humans, but were they? No matter how much they resembled humans, if they were natives of Oblivion, did that not make them Daedra? Or were they descendents of humans who had somehow long ago become stranded in this realm and settled here? Had he been in any other plane he would have found the very idea a laughable one. The thought humans could establish a functioning civilization in Oblivion was absolutely ludicrous. But in this one such a theory had plausibility. Its conditions were identical to Tamriel's, and therefore it was more than possible for humans to thrive here.

"I just don't know," Ysmir groaned out loud.

"What's wrong, partner?" Derflinger said from where it lay in its sheath beside him. "What don't you know?"

"Nothing," he grunted in reply.

"You mean that you're omniscient?"

"That is not what I meant," Ysmir replied sourly.

Derflinger chuckled. "Well, it sure doesn't sound like whatever you're thinking of is 'nothing' to me, then."

"You're right," Ysmir sighed and collapsed backwards onto the grass. "It is not nothing. However, it is not something I wish to give voice to at present."

"All right. If you say so," Derflinger said indifferently. "When you do want to talk about it, though, you can talk to me, partner."

"You have my gratitude," Ysmir said, and he meant it.

The two fell into silence, allowing it to reign over the courtyard, broken only by the sound of the rustling grass as a gentle breeze blew through them. It was that same wind that carried the muffled sound of footsteps to Ysmir. He sat up and turned towards the direction of the sound, blinking once in surprise at the familiar figure.

"There you are, Ysmir."

"Siesta?" Ysmir said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," the black-haired maid said, sounding unusually nervous for whatever reason.

"Congratulations. You found me," Ysmir smiled and rose to his feet. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"There is, actually," Siesta said, fiddling with her fingers and looking downwards. "Though I wonder if it would be all right for me to ask... Ah, maybe this isn't such a good idea after all... But... Ooh..."

"If it is necessary, I will give my oath to secrecy," Ysmir said. "Whatever you tell me now shall never leave my lips. So ask."

"Thank you," Siesta said and gave him a small smile. "In that case, I would like you to please teach me magic."

Ysmir blinked.

"What?"

* * *

><p>Ysmir frowned while observing Siesta current attempt at magic. Like all her previous ones, it was an utter failure.<p>

He had a inkling that this would be the case when he had first learned that only the nobles of this land were able to use magic. For some strange, inexplicable reason, it appeared that the commoners were either without magicka or lacked the capability to control it. But what made it downright befuddling was that this flew in the face of the very basis of magic as he knew it. Magicka, the source of all magic, was present in everyone and was everywhere, infusing the very atmosphere around them. There might be differing quantities from people to people, but no one had absolutely zero magicka within them. It stood to reason, then, that even a commoner of Halkeginia should be able to wield magic given an opportunity.

At least, that was what he had thought when he had accepted Siesta's request. In truth, the ongoing attempts seemed to only support the nobility's claim; that commoners were unable to use magic.

"Hm... It appears this isn't working," Ysmir murmured softly.

Siesta made a frustrated little noise and threw her hands up in the air. "I just don't get it. You keep telling me that I have to 'feel' the flow of 'magicka' within myself and to grasp hold of it in order to use magic, but I don't even know what I should be feeling for!"

"Aye," Ysmir said simply, and nothing else.

The maid looked at him plaintively. "Ysmir, just what exactly is magicka supposed to feel like? How am I supposed to use it?"

"I cannot answer that."

"Why not?" the girl demanded almost angrily.

In response, the Nord stared at the black-haired girl very evenly. "Can you teach me how to move my arm or leg?"

"Huh?" Siesta cocked her head, bemused by the sudden digression. "What do you mean how? You just move it."

"But _how_ do I do it?" he continued to press.

Siesta bit her lower lip and her brow furrowed. "Well... I don't know. You just do it."

"And that is exactly my point," Ysmir said. "Magicka is something as part of us as our arms or legs, and nobody can teach you how to control that which you were born with, only how to apply it. That is something instinctive."

"So, what," Siesta let out an explosive sigh, "does that mean I'm stuck because I can't do even that? Does that mean that I can't use magic?"

"I am not certain," Ysmir admitted. He cocked his head. "Why is it so important for you to learn how to use magic, anyway? If it is strength that you seek, I could teach you to wield a sword or bow or other weaponry and you could become strong that way."

At that, the girl shook her head and gave a bitter smile. "You don't understand, Ysmir. That wouldn't change anything. Even if I became strong that way, the nobles would only see me as a skilled commoner. They would still look down on me."

Anger flashed over the girls normally soft and gentle features.

"Do you know what it's like for us commoners to be looked down upon by the nobles? Do you know how humiliating it is when the nobles command us to do something and we have no other choice but to obey? If they say 'come here,' then we need to go to them obediently. If they say 'bark,' then we need to bark like the dogs we are."

He did not know that feeling. In fact, he could quite confidently claim he could not truly understand her pain and bitterness at all. He was the Dragonborn. He possessed power that most mortals could only dream of and was therefore someone who most either looked up to or at least respected. There were very few, if any, people who had ever looked down on him. There were even less that had continued to do so for long. This he did not give voice to.

"It's like I told you before. The only way for commoners like me to survive is to keep our heads down and do as the nobles command. I hate that," Siesta spat out those words venomously. "Commoners, they call us. Nobles, they call themselves. They should just be more honest and call us slaves and they the masters." The girl turned pleading eyes towards Ysmir. "Why should me, my family, my friends and their family and friends all be looked down upon just because we were born without being able to use magic? How is that fair? _That_ is why it needs to be magic that I learn from you. If I were to become a mage, then I could look the nobles in the eye and say to them, 'I can use magic, too.' It's only then that we would become equals."

Ysmir remained silent. He had no idea that the class difference between the nobles and commoners were so severe that it would engender such strong and bitter feelings in a member of the lower caste. Thinking back, he recalled how Louise had attempted to treat him as little more than a slave on the night of his summoning. He had brushed it off as a product of her immaturity and his technical status as her familiar, but if such an attitude extended to all interactions between nobles and commoners, then he could see why the girl before him was reacting as strongly as she was.

It was not that he was unfamiliar with the class difference between nobility and peasantry, but never had it been brought to his attention so forcefully. This, Ysmir knew, was a result of the difference in cultures between Halkeginia and Skyrim. In the frozen crown of Tamriel, if a commoner desired it enough, there were options available for him or her to pursue greatness. The College of Winterhold opened its doors to all those who were in the honest pursuit of magic. Likewise, the Companions welcomed those who were brave in heart and skilled in arms. Adventuring could also provide for unimaginable wealth for those who were courageous and strong enough to make a living that way. And those were only some of the more well known options.

In Halkeginia, it seemed that those paths were denied to the commoners. Little wonder then that Siesta was so bitter of her station in life. Unlike the residents of Skyrim, she had no choice in the matter.

Until now.

A shiver ran down his spine. For the first time, he understood the true potential magnitude of his presence in this world. In Skyrim, he had merely been the Dragonborn. In Halkeginia, he was more than just that. He was Ysmir, and he brought with him the potential for changes that could rock the very foundation of Halkeginian society. The idea that he had such latent power chilled him for a moment.

Though of course, that all hinged upon the fact that said potential was actually there.

"It's possible that the nobles are right," Ysmir said slowly. "It might truly be the case that commoners are totally incapable of wielding magic."

"Do you really think so?" Siesta asked despondently.

"Nay," Ysmir answered flatly, causing the maid to perk up. "Magicka exists in everyone. I am not yet ready to give up that belief."

"So what should we do, then?"

Ysmir smiled. "I have an idea."

* * *

><p>Louise pursed her lips as she considered the letter in her hands. Normally, her sister's words of advice left her in an uplifted mood. Today was different. For the first time, she found herself conflicted by her elder sibling. Her advice was not the advice she had been hoping for.<p>

She had originally been seeking instructions on how to better enforce a proper master-familiar relationship between them. To be told to abandon such efforts entirely was disheartening, to say the least.

But there was something else Cattleya had said that captured Louise's thoughts. To learn Ysmir's magic was an... intriguing thought.

On one hand, Louise found herself loathe to do such a thing, for doing so would surely be running away from the path of the correct magic given to them by Brimir. On the other hand, she had seen glimpses of the power of Ysmir's magic, and she coveted it. To say that she did not want to learn Ysmir's brand of magic would be a lie. Such contradictory feelings left Louise feeling unreasonably exhausted and she released an explosive sigh and slumped over her desk.

"Couldn't you have given me some better advice, Cattleya?" she complained out loud.

At that precise moment, the door suddenly opened, catching Louise by surprise. Her head shot up and looked towards the intruder, only to find that it was just her familiar. He gave her a brief word of greeting before walking over to where his bag laid on the ground, against the wall. He picked it up and then turned to leave.

"Wait," Louise called out. "Where are you going?"

Ysmir looked back at Louise. "I have a lesson I need to attend to."

At that, she became perplexed. "You found a teacher willing to teach you here?"

"Nothing of the sort," Ysmir replied. "It is I who is teaching another."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean that I am teaching Siesta how to use magic."

The noble blinked. "You're doing what for who now?"

"I'm teaching magic. To Siesta," Ysmir repeated slowly. He frowned. "Do you not remember her, little girl? She is the black-haired maid who was with us last time."

Louise blinked again as the full weight of Ysmir's words finally breached her mind. An aghast look dawned on her face.

"You're teaching magic... _to a commoner?"_

"I believe that is what I said."

"But you can't!" Louise blurted out. "I mean, commoners can't even use magic in the first place!"

"It's true that we're having some difficulties," Ysmir allowed, "but I believe we can overcome them."

"But... you _can't!"_

"You protest too much, little girl," Ysmir snorted. "I'll be off now."

"Ah, geez!" Louise cried out with frustration and stood up to chase after her familiar. "I'm coming too!"

* * *

><p>"Miss Valliere?" Siesta blinked in surprise. "Why are you here?"<p>

"That is what I should be asking," Louise said and narrowed her eyes. "What's this I hear about you, a commoner, trying to learn magic?"

The maid instantly flushed a bright red and glared at Ysmir, who was too busy rummaging through the bag he carried to pay much attention to their conversation.

"You told her," she said accusingly.

"Why should I have hidden it?" Ysmir said without looking up. "There is no shame nor dishonor in the desire to learn."

Louise sighed and looked at the much taller man. "Ysmir, I know that you claim that everyone in your homeland can use magic," she said patiently, "but this is not your homeland. It's Halkeginia. Here, commoners cannot use magic. That is irrefutable fact. It's why nobles are nobles and commoners are commoners."

A look of hurt flashed across Siesta's face, unnoticed by both Ysmir and Louise.

"So you say," Ysmir replied, "but I am not yet ready to accept that, for it rejects everything my people have held to be true."

"Then maybe your people were just wrong," Louise said.

"Perhaps," Ysmir said. "Or perhaps there's something more at work here. Ah, here it is."

From the bag, Ysmir produced a small vial filled with a nearly transparent, blue liquid. He handed that to Siesta and told her, "Drink that."

"What is it?" Siesta asked warily as she accepted the vial.

"It is a potion that I concocted," Ysmir said. "Once consumed, it will greatly increase the amount of magicka you already possess."

"Wait, wait, what?" Louise interjected. "You mean you can make potions that increase your Willpower? Is that even possible?"

Ysmir shrugged. "It is simple."

Louise gawked at Ysmir, while Siesta leered at the potion in her hands.

"If I drink this, I can use magic?"

"Not quite," Ysmir said. "Though it certainly will make it easier."

Siesta frowned. "Then how will this help me?"

"Recall what I said earlier," Ysmir began explaining patiently. "Chances are that commoners are simply unaware of their own latent magicka. If that is the case, then a sudden spike in your pool of magicka might, hopefully, stir it out of dormancy and forcibly bring it to your consciousness."

"So... basically it would be like person's hair and a hair growing potion," Siesta said, face scrunched up in thought.

Ysmir blinked. "Come again?"

"What I mean is that people generally don't feel their hair even though it's literally growing on their head," Siesta said. "But if their hair were to suddenly double or triple in length and size, then they would become very conscious of it because of the abrupt change."

"That... is the strangest metaphor I have ever heard," Ysmir said slowly, "though not entirely incorrect." He nodded. "If things goes as I hope, it will work something akin to that manner."

"And if it doesn't?" Louise chimed in.

"Then we will continue trying other methods," Ysmir replied calmly. "And if those too continue to fail, then I will accept that, for whatever reason, the commoners of Halkeginia are simply born without magicka."

"That's probably what will happen, then," Louise said dismissively.

"Mayhap, but let us leave matters of the future to the seers," Ysmir replied. "Siesta, please drink."

The black-haired maid hesitated for a moment more before nodding and uncorking the vial. Tipping her head back, she swallowed its entire contents in one, quick motion.

Ysmir smiled and raw magicka flared.

* * *

><p>Louise felt wobbly on her feet. She felt dizzy, dazed, as if her entire world had been suddenly shaken to its very foundations. No, not "as if" and not merely "shaken." It was completely <em>shattered.<em> For there before her, a mere commoner, one of the lower classes who were supposed to be totally incapable of using magic, was doing just that: using magic. Held cupped in her hand was a small, delicate looking fire that nevertheless danced with verve.

"She... she..." Louise murmured to no one in particular. "But... how?"

"I see," Ysmir said excitedly. "So it is as I thought."

Louise looked to him desperately. "What do you mean?"

"I had originally had my doubts over the sameness of what you call Willpower and what I know as magicka when I first heard about it during Colbert's lecture," Ysmir explained. "The thought that it could take a month to recover from a single spell, no matter how complicated it is, was almost ludicrous to me."

"Is it not the same for you?" Louise asked.

"Nay," Ysmir answered. "Even with the most potent and complex of spells, recovery can be done in but a few minutes of good rest."

His words nearly rocked Louise on her heels.

"A few _minutes!?"_ she said with disbelief. "Impossible! Willpower cannot recover that fast!"

"Aye. _Willpower_ can't," Ysmir replied. "But this" – he gestured towards Siesta with one hand, who was currently busy trying to clumsily manipulate the fire in her hands – "is proof of my new theory."

"What theory?"

"It is now my belief that, for whatever reason, the nobles of this land are born with a second source of magic different than magicka."

"You mean that Willpower and magicka aren't the same?"

"Aye," Ysmir said fervently and nodded. "It is the only way things make sense. The fundamentals of Willpower contrast far too sharply with magicka to make me think otherwise."

Ysmir briefly brought up a hand to conceal a wide, excited grin and allow himself a moment to recompose himself. Once he did, he continued his explanation to Louise.

"I hypothesize that long ago a small group of humans discovered magic through the hereditary gift of Willpower before the discovery of magicka. Because of that, they were likely the only mages existent in this land. That advantage is what allowed them to cement control over the rest of their kind, becoming the early precursors of the aristocracy. Probably, they then enforced the belief that only they are the ones capable of using magic and ingrained it so heavily into the collective unconsciousness of the commoners that none amongst them ever dreamed that they too were capable of magic. Similarly, the idea that Willpower is the only method in which magic can be cast became so deeply rooted within the nobility that none of them tried to to discover magicka."

"Does that mean that everyone can use magic, not just nobles?" Siesta cut in. Evidently, the enthralling fascination of being able to use magic for herself was not enough to distract the budding new mage from paying heed to the ongoing conversation.

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Everyone."

The look of radiance and joy on Siesta's face magnified tenfold, whereas Louise let out an explosive breath.

"Do you know how ridiculous that theory sounds?" Louise said sourly. "God gave nobles magic, and it is by that divine right that nobles are nobles. The way you say it, it's like everything was a matter of chance and that our ancestors were tyrants."

"I freely acknowledge that my theory is built of assumptions and guesswork," Ysmir admitted, "and I myself know a few things of divine blessings. However, that is ultimately all irrelevant. The crux of the matter is that there exists two sources of magic: magicka and Willpower. That is fact, for that is what has been proven this day."

Louise pursed her lips and grudgingly nodded in acceptance of Ysmir's words. She would never admit that the nobles gift of magic, or rather of Willpower, to be anything less than God's gift that marked them as the chosen few. But what Ysmir declared, that Willpower and magicka were not the same and that the latter existed even in commoners, was inarguable based upon what she was witnessing with her very own eyes.

Suddenly, Louise blanched as a revelation dawned upon her features.

If knowledge of this got out, if the news that every commoner possessed the potential for magic, and, heavens forbid, they actually _became_ mages themselves, it could spark continent wide rebellions as the masses attempted to steal the control and power that rightfully belonged to the nobility. Louise shuddered at that thought. Without the nobles to guide and protect them, the commoners would likely run themselves straight into extinction. It would be worse than a simple insurrection. It would be a continental catastrophe. Worse than even that, it would be heresy, for it was Brimir himself who lawfully ordained the nobility as the chosen rulers. To rebel, then, was to rebel against Brimir himself.

And then Louise paled even further as another, even more shocking epiphany broke upon her.

No matter what anyone said, right now the fact of the matter was that the maid was a _better_ mage than her.

And that was something she could not allow.

"Ysmir," Louise said urgently.

"What is it?"

"Teach me magic, too."

Ysmir smiled. "Of course."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Hey, everyone. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's shorter than my other chapters, prologue notwithstanding, but that's because this is more an interlude as we prepare to go into the first Albion/Wardes arc, though that will come with an important twist. No spoilers, but I have a fairly solid idea of what I want to do. _

_As for this chapter itself, I'm sure that a lot of people are gonna point out how Louise is being... narrow-minded, to say the least. I'll answer more specific questions and criticisms in the next chapter's author's notes, but I just want everyone to bear in mind one thing: Louise is undoubtedly a naïve girl at this point in time, and she has very set ideas in how the world should work. _

_In Louise's mind, nobles are meant to rule over the commoners and must do so fairly and to their utmost. In that sense, she has a very romanticized, idealized image of nobility and is not aware of the level of corruption such a system can easily accrue. This is a result of her exceptionally sheltered lifestyle. _

_As always, please leave any thoughts and comments in the review section. :)_


	6. Chapter 5 - Roles (Part 1)

**Chapter 5 – Roles (Part 1)**

Matilda chuckled quietly as she walked alongside the Musketeer captain through the magnificent halls of the palace. It was ironic how only a few days ago walking so freely in this place, albeit under watch, would have been unthinkable, yet that was precisely what she was doing now.

"Is something funny?" Agnes said without so much as turning her head or breaking her stride.

"No, not really," Matilda said idly. "I was just thinking that life can be full of crazy turns."

"Ah," Agnes nodded. "I suppose I can sympathize. You've had an interesting life. A noble who fell from grace, became a teacher, stole a dangerous artifact, and was nearly put to death. You've experienced things most people wouldn't have."

"You sure don't sound sympathetic," Matilda scowled.

"Don't I?" Agnes shrugged. "Oh, well."

Matilda glared at Agnes. For a moment, she considered sticking her tongue out at the cold woman, but then rejected the idea as childish and unsatisfying. There were surely better ways to vent than that. More importantly, Matilda couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief over one critically important fact.

She had not yet been ousted as Foquet the Crumbling Dirt.

If there was a stroke of good fortune in this most unfortunate turn of events, it was that in her state of insanity, she had enacted the theft in a manner totally unlike that of her normal methods. That, along with the fact that Foquet was widely assumed to be a man, had been enough to allow her to evade suspicions of her true alter ego. Thus, in the eyes of the crown, she was neither Matilda nor Foquet; she was simply Longueville. This was convenient, because had it been known she was the legendary thief feared and hated across the continent, she would have most certainly been executed or imprisoned for life, no matter what Ysmir had said.

For a brief moment, "Longueville" wondered what Ysmir would have done if he had known that she was such an infamous thief. Would he have still petitioned for clemency on her behalf, or would he have simply allowed her to be executed for her crimes? Longueville swore at that moment to take even greater care to never allow her secret to escape.

"We're here," Agnes said and pushed open the wooden door they had stopped in front of.

The room itself was well furnished, though rather than being decorative, everything in the room was there based purely upon their functionality. From the large table in the center of the room to the various maps of individual countries pinned on the walls, there was nothing in the military planning room that was intrinsically of artistic value.

But what caught Longueville's attention was the well dressed man standing in the center of the room, just across the table. Briefly, she sucked in a breath in stunned surprise when she recognized just who the man was.

Captain of the Tristainian Gryphon Knights, Wardes of the Lightning.

"Viscount Wardes," Agnes stepped inside the room and nodded in greeting to the man whose name was renowned almost to the point of being legendary all across the continent. "I did not expect to see you here. What is it that you need?"

"Captain Agnes," Wardes returned the gesture to his counterpart. Longueville noted that he tipped his head more shallowly than Agnes had – a subtle but clear sign of disrespect.

Longueville glanced briefly out of the corner of her eye at Agnes. There was no change in neither her posture nor her expression, but the green-haired mage could feel the displeasure that seemed to radiate from her like cold from ice.

"I expect this will answer your question," the wind mage continued, holding up a scroll for them to see before placing it on the table.

Agnes took the scroll and looked at it. Stamped on the wax seal was the symbol of the royal family. A royal decree. The Musketeer captain broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. Her eyes scanned over the contents, and once she was done she nodded and rerolled the scroll and put it back down.

"I see," Agnes simply said. "It will be reassuring to have your power at our disposal, though I question the wisdom of placing such a high profile officer of the Tristain knight corps in a covert operation."

"One could say the same about you, Captain of the Musketeer Corps," Wardes replied softly. His eyes flicked to Longueville, and she suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if she was a rabbit being observed by a hawk. "One could also question the wisdom in including a mass murderess in such vital operation. It makes one wonder whether command of this operation is in the right hands."

Longueville opened her mouth to retort angrily, but was stopped when Agnes held one hand in front of her almost warningly.

"Then I suppose I had better make sure that this mission is a success so as not to betray your expectations," she said with false politeness. "I would hate to disappoint the great Wardes of the Lightning."

The viscount smiled back thinly. "Yes, that would be most unfortunate indeed. Now," and here his tone turned crisp and businesslike, lacking any of the earlier condescension, "I've already taken the liberty of looking into the members of the squad you've chosen for this operation, and I would like to make a recommendation."

"You think something is lacking?" Agnes inquired in a similar tone. It seemed, then, that the time for verbal jabs had passed.

"Not quite," Wardes said. "As far as your squad members go, they are well chosen for this type of mission. Our presence will complicate things, but only slightly, for while our names are well known, our appearances are not quite as easily identified. A simple disguise ought to suffice. What I worry about is that while we have the stealth component, we lack the muscle necessary should the situation turn dire."

"That is why you have been added to this mission," Agnes said pointedly, but Wardes merely shook his head.

"As powerful as I might be, even I would be hard pressed to both protect the entire squad _and_ defeat our assailants,, if our enemies are many," Wardes said. "And while there is one more mage with us, I can hardly expect a former secretary to have much experience in battlemagics."

Agnes arched an eyebrow. "Surely you've read the reports, Viscount. Yet you still have doubts over Longueville's abilities?"

Wardes smiled again, and this time his earlier scorn returned with it. "Perhaps in the eyes of a commoner such feats were awe inspiring, but to a trained mage, it was but a crude demonstration. Had it not been for that 'Wabbajack,' I doubt that such a rampage would have been as devastating as it had been."

"Are you saying I'm not good enough?" Longueville said heatedly.

"Of course not," Wardes replied in an almost demure manner. "Judging by the size of the golem you created, I assume you must be of the triangle class. It is merely that while you may have the power, you lack the skill. But then, I suppose I ought to praise you for getting even that far as a fallen noble. Well done."

"Why you pompous, little...!" Longueville began, but was once more interrupted by Agnes.

"So who exactly is it that you have in mind, Viscount Wardes?" Agnes asked.

"The reports told of a man who personally defeated the thief and was even offered a Chevalier's title by the princess," Wardes said. "I would have him join us."

Agnes frowned at that. "Ysmir? Certainly, he is powerful, but he is also Miss Valliere's familiar. We cannot simply take him away from her, even for such an important mission."

"That is a trifling matter," Wardes said, waving a hand dismissively. "All we need to do is make a request to Louise instead. If she comes, then naturally her familiar will come with her."

"You are aware of the rumors surrounding the youngest daughter of the Valliere family, aren't you?"

"I am quite aware of what people say of my fiancee," Wardes said coolly. "Those people are fools who cannot recognize her potential."

"Is that your bias speaking?" Agnes said lightly. "Whatever. I'll acknowledge your suggestion."

"In that case, I'll prepare a carriage to take us to the Academy."

"No," Agnes said flatly, catching Wardes by surprise. "I only said I acknowledged that you made a suggestion. I never said I accepted it." Agnes glared hard up at the taller man. "Make no mistake, Viscount Wardes, this mission and its details are for _me_ to decide, and a mere student, no matter how powerful her familiar might be, has no place in this mission."

Wardes clenched his teeth and glowered back at his distaff counterpart. For a moment, the two engaged in a silent battle of wills as they stared unblinkingly at each other. Finally, Wardes relaxed his tension and nodded.

"As you say," he said smoothly. "That is all I have to say, so I will leave you to make your plans. Have a good day, Captain."

"You as well, Viscount," Agnes replied curtly.

It was only once Wardes had walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and was safely out of earshot range that Longueville let out an explosive breath.

"What. An. Ass."

Agnes smiled faintly at that.

"Viscount Wardes is a model noble and officer within the mage-knight corps," she chastised.

"You're defending him?" Longueville said incredulously. "He might as well have been calling you mentally handicapped just for being a commoner!"

"Yes," Agnes nodded, "and that is why he is a model noble and officer."

"But-" Longueville began, then stopped and frowned as she slowly started to understand what the shorter woman was saying. "Ooh. I get it. So, what, are you telling me that all the other officers are like that, too?"

"Yes."

Longueville sighed and shook her head. "Must be difficult for you."

"A little," Agnes agreed. "The Musketeer Corps has always been met with disdain by the other orders ever since our inception. We have none of their tradition and history, and we are comprised entirely of commoners. That alone has been enough to incense the nobility as a whole against us."

"I knew that the Musketeers were often criticized for being a powerless, useless corps," Longueville frowned, "but I thought that their critics had already stopped decrying you all."

"Publicly, yes," Agnes agreed. "Though in truth, it only became worse."

"How so?"

"They began targeting the princess."

Longueville's eyes widened. "You mean they've attempted assassinations?"

"No. Not yet, at least," Agnes said grimly. "They attack her in ways much harder to defend against than plain threats on her life. They mock and criticize her, insulting her throughout the noble circles."

"Aristocrats insulting others behind their back." Longueville snorted. "So what else is new?"

"It's different," Agnes shook her head. "While Princess Henrietta has always been criticized for establishing the Musketeer Corps as her personal arm of the law, she's always been more of a peripheral target rather than a focal point. Now it's we Musketeers that are treated as another failing of the princess." Agnes bared her teeth and growled. "The cowards."

"Is that how it is?"

"It is," Agnes said gravely. "And given her youth, the princess already has a difficult enough time commanding respect amongst her subjects without us adding to her troubles."

"Is there anything that can be done about it, then?"

"Yes," Agnes nodded. "We continue doing the same thing we've been doing. We bring results. As we have none of the history or power or, hell, even the funding of the other knight corps, we cannot permit even a single failure. Our successes will validate the princess; failure will ruin her."

"You're pretty loyal to the princess, aren't you?" Longueville mused.

"All of us of the Musketeer Corps are," Agnes said. "It is thanks to her that we commoners have the chance to attain power and prestige and to rise above our allotted station in life. We kill for the princess. We die for the princess. We are sword she points at her enemies and the gun that shoots them down. That is our creed." The captain shrugged. "But never mind all that. I don't expect a mage to understand the feelings of commoners."

"No, but I think I can sympathize."

"Then I'll thank you for that much, but I don't need sympathies," Agnes said brusquely, "only results."

* * *

><p>She could use magic.<p>

She could use magic!

She could use _magic!_

"I'm a mage!" Louise announced joyfully as she allowed the fist-sized ball of fire burn between her hands.

From where he sat, carefully sharpening and removing the last of the rust from Derflinger, Ysmir looked up with a curious expression.

"Are you going to say that every time you make fire?" he sighed.

Louise ignored him and continued to marvel at the small feat of magic she had performed. What did he know, after all, over the sheer elation she felt at being able to be a mage in more than just name? True, she was now a mage that used magic unlike those of other nobles, but strangely enough it did not bother her overmuch anymore. What mattered was that she could use magic!

"I think I'm ready to learn the more advanced stuff," Louise said proudly as she canceled the flames. "Your people's magic is pretty easy to learn."

When comparing Tamrielic magic to traditional Halkeginian magic, Louise found that the foreign method was by far the easier way. This was largely due to the difference in the way the two continental magics worked. For example, whereas magic with Willpower required a mage to command nature to create fire, Tamrielic magic simply turned the caster's magicka itself into fire. The former method was a difficult one, requiring one to pit their own force of will against the natural order of the world with every spell; the latter was far more internalized and lacked that struggle almost in its entirety, due to the fact that one's magicka was essentially an extension of oneself. The result was that magicka magic was a far more easily controlled and efficient method.

"Is that what you think?" the familiar said softly.

"Yes," Louise said proudly. She did not wish to brag, but she was quite confident she was actually quite talented at this method of magic. It had only been a couple of days since she had begun her magic lessons under Ysmir, and she had already come this far, after all. "Hey, Ysmir, what's the strongest school of magic that you can use?"

"The Thu'um," her familiar replied without hesitation. "Why?"

"The Thu'um..." Louise echoed wistfully.

She recalled how Ysmir had become like a ghost, slipping through anyone and anything. She remembered the dreadful dragon he had literally called forth under his command. She mused upon the immense strength and durability he had demonstrated when he had shouted that dragon-like armor into existence in his battle against Miss Longueville.

She thought about all of this, of the strange and unfathomable power of the Thu'um, and coveted it. She wanted it. If she were to learn how to use it, then there would be none who could mock her as Louise the Zero ever again.

"Teach me it."

"No."

Louise frowned. "Why not?" she demanded angrily.

"Because it will be impossible for you."

"How do you know that?" Louise said hotly. "You're only saying that because you don't want to teach me."

"It is impossible for you," Ysmir insisted. "The reason being is that you are not a Nord. Dragonborns aside, only Nords can wield the Thu'um."

Louise laughed.

"That's funny," Louise said scathingly. "All this time you've been telling me how your people's magic can be used by everyone. Now you're saying you lied?"

"Not a lie," Ysmir said. "Merely an exception to the rule."

"Hmph. Whatever," Louise huffed. He was probably lying, but she decided to let the matter drop for now. She could work on persuading him next time. "Fine, teach me the next level instead, then. I'm ready to move on to the more advanced spells."

At that, the familiar arched an eyebrow. "You sound quite confident about that."

"Of course I do," Louise said proudly, puffing out her chest. "I _am_ a noble, after all."

"So you say," Ysmir said. He sheathed his sword and began gathering his things. "Unfortunately, while it is good to have confidence, I will tell you this right now: You are nowhere near as good as you think you are."

"What was that?" Louise snapped, her anger flaring.

"I've seen many apprentices like you," Ysmir continued, as he stood up. "Many were the cases where an apprentice thought their skill and talent were an order of magnitude higher than what it truly was. More often than not, in their arrogance, they sought to reach heights there were still beyond their reach. In doing so, they inevitably hurt themselves or others around them."

"So you're not going to teach me anything more than this?" Louise scowled and lit up the tiny ball of flame in her hand. "This is useless! You might as well have taught me nothing at all!"

"A wise teacher does not teach the apprentice more knowledge than they are ready to learn," Ysmir said. His eyes flicked towards the fire. "And you are not yet ready, little girl."

"Stop calling me that!" Louise barked. "I am not a little girl! I am a grown woman! A noble! A mage! And I will no longer stand to have my own familiar to look down on me as a 'little girl!'"

Ysmir tipped his head slightly, acknowledging her anger, but not being concerned by it. "I have supplied you with the foundation. What you build from it is up to you."

"You call this a foundation?" Louise sneered. "This is just a bad party trick!"

Ysmir smiled at her. "And that is why you are not yet ready."

"Where are you going?" Louise said when Ysmir began to walk away.

"I deem my presence will only be a detriment to your training at this stage," Ysmir called back without turning around, "so I will leave to work on another project. Continue training diligently. I will see you later."

* * *

><p>"Ooh! What's wrong with that stupid familiar!" Louise cried out. She was alone now in the Vestri Courtyard, so she freely allowed herself to vent her anger in a loud manner. "'You are not yet ready,'" she echoed Ysmir's parting words in the deepest and most mocking voice she could muster. "How dare he look down on me like that?"<p>

Holding up one hand, Louise conjured a small flame. Seeing its diminutive size, she scowled and slashed her hand across the air, ending the fire.

"Isn't it your fault if this is all I can do?" Louise groused. "It's all you taught me to do. Just what am I supposed to do with _this?"_

"Miss Valliere? Is something wrong?"

Turning around, Louise was surprised to see Siesta standing there with a loaf of bread in hand. She took a bite off of it and chewed.

"It's rude for commoners to eat in front of nobles," Louise said sternly.

"Ah, please excuse me," Siesta replied sleepily after swallowing. "I haven't had a good opportunity to eat lately, so I've taken to eating when I can."

"Or sleep, it seems," Louise said with annoyance when Siesta tried and failed to stifle a yawn with her free hand. The nerve of this commoner. Didn't she understand that there were proper rules of etiquette for how she was supposed to address her superiors? "Go take a nap if you're so tired."

"Perhaps later," Siesta murmured. "Thank you for your concern, my lady."

"It's not really out of concern that I said that," Louise grumbled.

The maid smiled. "By the way, do you know where Ysmir went, Miss Valliere?"

"I have no idea where that pompous jerk went," Louise scowled. "And I don't care."

Siesta took another bite of her bread. "You two had a fight?"

"He refused to teach me magic even though he already said he would!" Louise said explosively. "He fed me some really stupid line about how 'I'm not ready yet' and that he already gave me the 'foundations.'" Louise scoffed. "He's barely taught me a thing, not even a proper spell."

"Is that so?" Siesta cocked her head. "Perhaps I could help you?"

"Oh, please," Louise rolled her eyes. "How could you possibly help me, commoner?"

"Granted, I'm not all that skilled," Siesta said stiffly, "but I've been working on the basics that Ysmir showed us, and I think I've gotten pretty good at it."

"So am I," Louise said dismissively. She lit up a small ball of fire in her hand and showed it to Siesta. "See? It's useless."

Siesta arched an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. Holding her free hand up towards the sky, she then unleashed a gout of fire that was like a burning geyser. Louise's jaw dropped and she gawked at the maid, who had her face screwed up in concentration. Even from where she stood, Louise could feel the heat rolling off of the spell in thick waves. The flaming spout continued going for roughly five seconds before it finally died away.

"How did you do that?" Louise demanded. "Has Ysmir been giving you more lessons than me in secret?"

"No," Siesta yawned and bit down on her bread with forced effort. "I haven't had a chance to study with him that much. I've just been practicing a lot."

"Wait," Louise said suspiciously, "how much do you mean when you say 'a lot?'"

"I think I've missed sleeping the past two or three days working on it," Siesta admitted. "I've been skipping my breakfast and dinners, too."

"Truly?" Louise said in disbelief. "Why would you work that hard?"

"It can't be helped," Siesta shrugged. "Because of work, I don't have the time to study magic as much as I'd like, so I have to make time where I can. Eating and sleeping are small sacrifices to pay for that." Siesta yawned again. "Though I suppose I can't keep this up for long. I think I'll take your advice and go take a nap. Have a good day, Miss Valliere."

Bowing briefly, Siesta turned to leave.

"Hold," Louise called out, causing Siesta to turn back around and look at her. "You told me that you were going to help me."

Siesta blinked, and then, despite the tiredness of her features, the maid smiled mischievously.

"Hm? But did you not just refuse my offer?" Siesta said in a singsong voice that did not match her bleary eyes. "Didn't you imply that there was no way I, a mere commoner, could be of help to you?"

Louise flushed with embarrassment.

"S-shut up!" she spluttered out. "I'm ordering you to teach me how you did that!"

Siesta's smile grew a bit wider and a teasing, perhaps even gloating, timbre tinged her voice. "No."

"Are you disobeying me, commoner?" Louise growled threateningly.

"Is that how you should be asking for favors?" Siesta responded mildly, but with a steel that was not quite so hidden. "I'm a mage now too, and I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"Why you...!" Louise began, before stopping and grinding her teeth together.

As much as it angered her, it was a matter of fact that Siesta was currently the better mage. This time, she had failed to put forth enough initiative into her own training. For that very reason, she had fallen behind tremendously. She could not afford to fall behind even further. In that case, no matter how it made her feel, it was in her own best interest to borrow from the knowledge of another and learn from them, even if that person was a commoner, and even if it humiliated her in doing so.

"Fine," Louise spat out bitterly. "P-please help me."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Siesta smiled again.

"I said please help me!" Louise said more loudly, her face red with mortification.

Siesta's smile turned into a victorious grin. "Of course." She held up a hand and created a ball of fire. Louise noted with annoyance and envy that it was much larger than what she was capable of mustering. "As you already know, in order to do this, all you need to do is gather a sufficient amount of magicka and will it to turn into fire."

"Yes, Ysmir already taught me that," Louise said impatiently.

"I know," Siesta said. "What he didn't teach us, however, is that in order to do what I did, there is one more step involved in that process."

"There is?" Louise frowned. "But why didn't he tell us that, then?"

"I think it's because he wanted us to figure it out for ourselves."

"Oh." Louise crossed her arms and scowled. "I hate it when people teach that way."

"It certainly did make things harder," Siesta agreed. "But it did force me to understand the basics he taught us to a much greater degree than if he just told us how to do it outright."

"Eh," Louise grunted in reply. "What's the third step?"

"Well, to explain that I need to explains something else first," Siesta said. "You see, the difference between this fire that I've conjured and real fire is that even if they behave in exactly the same way, my fire is composed of my magicka. It's _magical_ fire."

"Isn't that obvious?" Louise sighed. "Of _course_ it's magical fire. You're using _magic_ to make it."

"Don't you understand?" Siesta said. "That difference is crucial. Unlike natural fire, our flames do not burn through consuming wood or oil. It uses our magicka as fuel. Our magicka itself infuses its very existence, and that means that even if I can't control it perfectly I can at least guide the way the flames move. That is the third step: to direct the magicka instead of holding it in place."

"That's it?" Louise said. "That seems simple enough."

"In theory, yes," Siesta agreed. "It is much harder to put into practice than you might think, though. You have to take care to properly control yourself, since if you use too much magicka at once, you'll quickly run out, and if you don't use enough, you won't get a very strong spell. I also tried to make the fire spread out in a wider area, but that didn't seem to work very well. Maybe it's because I don't have that much magicka, but the flames were really weak since it wasn't concentrated tightly enough. Oh, but I apologize, Miss Valliere. I'm rambling. Sleepy minds tend to do that, I suppose."

"Indeed," Louise said. "You should go get some sleep. And... Siesta?"

"Yes, Miss Valliere?"

"T-thanks for the tip," Louise mumbled, while Siesta yawned simultaneously.

"Forgive me, Miss Valliere," Siesta said. "That was rude of me. What was it that you said?"

"Never mind. It's nothing," Louise blushed.

Siesta cocked her head and frowned, but said, "All right, then. Good bye."

With a polite bow, Siesta left the courtyard with dragging steps. Louise watched her leave, and then once she was gone, she turned her attention to her own opened hands.

_Have I been underestimating Tamrielic magic?_ Louise wondered.

It was true, casting magic with magicka was by far simpler than using Willpower, but that did not mean that it was an easy thing to learn. Rather, all it meant was that hard work would be better rewarded. After all, Siesta had sacrificed even her time for sleeping and eating in order to train, and as a result, she had far surpassed Louise even though they had started around the same time.

It was no wonder Ysmir had refused to teach her further. After having learned only the absolute basics, she had already allowed it to go to her head. In truth, she was still nothing more than Louise the Zero. If she wanted to rise above that, she needed to abandon her arrogance and vainglory and devote herself to studying and training more assiduously, like Siesta.

Louise sat down, took a deep breath, and began concentrating on her magicka.

* * *

><p>By the time Louise returned to her room, it was evening. Her stomach growled not so quietly, but she ignored it. It was proof of her hard work, and she took a certain amount of pride in that fact. She had spent the vast majority of the day alone in the Vestri Courtyard in order to train. At the end of it, though she had yet to match the skill and power that Siesta had demonstrated, she had begun to make very real progress. If the price of such progress was a simple foregoing of dinner, then it was a cheap price to pay. After all, if a mere commoner could do that much, then so could she.<p>

Still, she greatly disliked feeling hungry. It was a sensation not well known to her, and as she opened the door and was buffeted by the thick odor of herbs and whatever other alchemical ingredients Ysmir had gathered, she wondered if she should have a servant bring her a late night meal.

"There you are, Louise."

The pink-haired noble blinked as she realized that she recognized the voice that greeted her. She nearly squealed in surprise when she saw the speaker: a tall man, immaculately dressed and groomed, sitting at the table across from Ysmir.

"Sir Wardes," Louise said, "what are you doing here?"

"Is it so wrong for me to want to see my lovely fiancee?" Wardes said with an utter seriousness that did not match the teasing connotation of his words. "Although, I was rather surprised when I arrived here and was told by the teachers that they did not know where you were, and that you've been skipping your classes. I was even more surprised to see another man sharing a room with you."

"There's nothing between me and Ysmir, Sir Wardes," Louise said quickly, her face not quite as red as a tomato, but very close. "He is just my familiar. As for my studies, although I have been skipping classes, I am not slacking in my lessons."

"This I already know," Wardes smiled. "Since you were gone for the time being, I was whiling away my time by engaging in conversation with Ysmir. I must say, you have summoned a most interesting familiar. Tamriel. I would dearly love to explore a foreign land."

"You told him about that?" Louise said, looking to Ysmir.

Ysmir shrugged. "A little. I am not concerned with hiding my origin of birth."

"As for your studies," Wardes continued, "I already know that you are too diligent to play truant without good cause. You are like your mother, in that sense."

"Thank you," Louise said sheepishly. "But you are the captain of the Gryphon Knights. I would hate to think that you might be doing a disservice to the princess by wasting time for one such as I."

Wardes smiled. "For you, it is never a waste of time. However, if that is what you fear, then I have reason enough to be here that will assuage your concerns. Louise, how would you like to have an opportunity to not just serve the princess, but to do a great deed for the whole country?"

"What do you mean?" Louise said quizzically.

"You already know of the rebellion in Albion, don't you?"

"By the scum calling themselves Reconquista, yes," Louise scowled.

"Then I'll skip the needless details and get straight to the point," Wardes said. "As it stands, Reconquista will win the civil war. As their goal is to unite the entire continent in order to wage war against the elves, it is most likely that they will then desire a war with Tristain in order to conquer her as well. But to do so, they will need a reason, an excuse, to declare war."

"Then we have nothing to fear," Louise said. "Tristain is a good country. We have no reason to earn their ire."

"If only that were true," Wardes said gravely. "However, for quite some time now, Princess Henrietta and Prince Wales of Albion have been exchanging letters. If any of those letters fall into Reconquista's hand, they will have all the reason they need."

"Even so," Louise argued, "it is precisely for that reason that the princess is marrying into the Germanian royal family. They're our allies, and Reconquista simply does not have the power to defeat both Tristain and Germania."

"We are not yet allies," Wardes corrected. "The alliance is contingent upon the princess's marriage with the Germanian king. Reconquista could very easily use those letters to destroy the marriage before it can take place, meaning that Tristain will be forced to stand alone in an all out invasion."

Louise's eyes widened. "Then we need to recover those letters."

"Indeed," Wardes said. "And that's why I'm here. I was hoping you would join us in this vital mission. If we succeed, though we cannot be recognized for it due to the operation's clandestine nature, you would be a hero that saved Tristain from a devastating war."

"I'll do it," Louise said eagerly.

"Excellent," Wardes said and flashed the diminutive girl a pearly smile. "We must meet the rest of the team in Rosais. Gather whatever essentials you need. We must leave quickly."

"Yes!" Louise said and immediately set about packing some spare clothes and supplies. She stopped and frowned, though, when she noticed that Ysmir remained sitting at his chair unflinchingly.

"Are you not going to gather your things as well?" Wardes said confusedly.

"I will not go," Ysmir answered simply.

Wardes frowned. "But you must. Your master is going. It is your duty as a familiar to follow her."

"My duty is not to the little girl nor to the princess she swears allegiance to," Ysmir replied. "Neither do I possess any obligation towards their country or to any country of this land." He crossed his arms. "If she decides to go, I will not hold her back, but I will not involve myself in the affairs of this land and its people."

"So you're just going to stay here?" Louise demanded in outrage. "Coward!"

"You think me a coward?"

"Yes," Louise said. "If you were not, you would not be afraid to follow me on this mission."

"In that case, I care little for your definition of courage," Ysmir dismissed. "It reeks of selfishness."

"How dare you!"

"Peace, love," Wardes said soothingly and went and placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked to Ysmir. "I am most disappointed in you. Whatever words you might use to dress it up, all that you are doing is running from your duties as Louise's familiar."

"By the customs of your people, I have such duties and expectations," Ysmir allowed. "But I am not of your people. Why must I follow your ways?"

"Because we could prevent war."

Ysmir cocked his head. "You speak as if war is wrong."

"You think it is right?"

"No," Ysmir admitted, "but I think it is necessary, natural, and I think it a place where honor and glory can be earned."

"I see," Wardes murmured. "Now I understand."

Ysmir arched an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"Yes," Wardes said. "I understand that you think too differently from us for us to ever truly understand each other. It was futile for Louise and I to try to convince you to take the correct path. You are too far set in your ways and will never stray from it."

"So you say," Ysmir replied. He looked to Louise. "As I said, I will not stop you if you wish to go, but I warn you: It will be dangerous for you to go. You are not ready."

"Unlike you, I am not afraid to risk my life in order to serve my country," Louise replied scathingly.

Ysmir smiled. "Then I will say no more. Be cautious, and good luck."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>_

_I forgot to talk about this in the last AN, but something a few people have been commenting on is about Ysmir's power levels, and how he seemed too weak in the Sylphid and Matilda fight. I just want to clarify that in terms of power Ysmir is by far and away both of their superiors. The reason why he seemed to "struggle" against Sylphid was because she was just so damn fast that he was having a difficult time landing a hit on her. That, however, was also the _only_ obstacle he truly faced in that fight._

_As for Matilda, he intentionally went overkill on her not because she was a threat, but because the Wabbajack was. Make no mistake, in Ysmir's mind, that fight was_ _never "Ysmir vs Matilda." Rather, it was "Ysmir vs the Wabbajack." Thus, he pulled out all the stops, holding nothing back, in order to end the fight as quickly as possible in order to take back the Wabbajack._

_At least, that was what I was trying to show when I wrote those fights. Perhaps I didn't write it well enough to deliver my intention? Something for me to keep in mind going on into the future, I suppose._

_Now, on a personal note, I have to say, I'm enjoying writing this fic quite a bit. In truth, I've been largely basing the Ysmir in this fic with the character I was playing before I got a mod that so severely revamped the perk trees that I had to make a new character. Like this Ysmir, my character was Nord that pretty much maxed out on everything (or at least all the relevant perk trees). Of course, at that point, everything was so ridiculously easy to beat that it became kinda boring, but it was also kinda fun just stomping on pretty much everything. _

_Speaking of boring, it's been a rather interesting ride thus far trying to write a character that is the ace without crossing over into the "boring invincible hero" territory. There's a fine line between the two that I, as the writer, have to straddle. I wonder, have I been doing well on that front thus far? I hope I have, but if not, please let me know along with any criticisms you might have. _

_Ideally, I'd like for most of Ysmir's conflicts to stem from trying to figure out his role in a new world and how his actions effect an unwary continent and its people, because whereas his role in Tamriel was very clear cut as the Dragonborn (i.e. Defeat Alduin; Save the world), he is a much bigger wild card in Halkeginia, something I've touched upon near the end of the last chapter. _

_That's not to say that there won't be external threats to Ysmir (there will be) and battles (epic ones) for him to resolve, but I feel like when you have a character as strong as Ysmir is and in this type of setting, the most interesting conflicts are the internal ones and the ones where he needs to deal with the far-reaching societal ramifications of his actions. Hopefully, I'll be able to do it justice. _

_As always, thanks for reading. Until the next chapter. Ciao._


	7. Chapter 6 - Roles (Part 2)

**Chapter 6 – Roles (Part 2)**

"You brought her!?" Agnes hissed furiously.

Longueville stood at the side, quietly observing the argument between Agnes and Viscount Wardes unfold. At the hawk-like man's side was the diminutive Louise Valliere, who looked confused by the confrontation between the two.

"I did," Wardes said without a hint of shame.

"Viscount," Agnes seethed, "I hope you realize what this means. For disobeying my direct orders and bringing in a civilian, you face sufficient charges for a court martial."

"I understand," Wardes said calmly, "and I regret nothing."

"You bastard," Agnes snarled.

Agnes' hand settle upon the butt of her pistol, holstered at her side. Simultaneously, Wardes' own hand snaked down to the handle of his sword-wand, a specially designed wand made to allow mages to hold their own even in melee combat. It was standard issue for all of Tristain's knight corps. The magic ones, anyway.

For a brief moment, Longueville wondered if the two would come to blows, and if they did, who would win?

Of course, in terms of power, Wardes was by far and away the stronger of the two. The spells he could cast were famed for their versatility and power and his feats were the stuff of legend. However, right now, in this situation, with the two standing so close to one another, it was the commoner, Agnes, who held the advantage, for as powerful Wardes was, he was still a mage. Therefore, like all mages, he possessed certain, immutable weaknesses, the most relevant of which was the fact that he actually needed to think and chant his spells. It was a miniscule opening, but for a trained fighter, the body could react far more quickly than the mind could think, and she had little doubt that Agnes was more than capable of taking advantage of that opening.

Fortunately, no spellwords left Wardes' lips and no bullets flew from Agnes' gun. Instead, they both slowly lowered their hands and relaxed their posture at the same time.

"She's already here," Agnes said, "so there's no point in belaboring that fact." The Musketeer captain looked around the hotel. "Where's Ysmir?"

"Ah... about that..." Wardes murmured.

"That coward refused to come with me," Louise interrupted angrily. "Doesn't he understand that this is a great chance to do good for Tristain and for the princess?" she grumbled, more to herself than to anyone around her.

"Peace, love," Wardes said gently. "There is no use in complaining over those not here."

"I suppose so..." Louise agreed reluctantly.

Meanwhile, Agnes brought a hand up to her temple and rubbed it. "What you mean to say is that not only did you bring a civilian, but you failed to at least bring the only reason why we even considered bringing her in the first place?"

Louise narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that without your familiar I have no use for a mere student like you," Agnes snapped. "Go home."

"Never," Louise said stubbornly and crossed her arms. "I want to help the princess too."

"If you could be of help," Agnes scoffed, "I wouldn't be telling you to go home."

_Ouch._ Longuevilled winced while looking at Louise, who reeled back as if physically struck by Agnes' words. With her pride wounded, the little girl's face flushed an irascible red.

"I am a noble," Louise said with impotent fury. "If a commoner like you is allowed to go on this mission, so can I!"

"A commoner like me, is it?" Agnes said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Very well. In respect towards your bullheaded stubbornness, I'll at least give you a chance."

"You will?" Louise blinked.

"You will?" Longueville repeated, clearly surprised that Agnes had given in so easily. From her dealings with the Musketeer captain, she had gotten the impression that the captain was a far less lenient woman.

"Yes," Agnes said. "But this is a dangerous mission. Therefore, you will only be allowed to come should I deem you capable of at least defending yourself. We have no need for liabilities in our squad."

"Fine," Louise said. "Who do I have to fight to prove myself?"

Agnes bared her teeth and smiled.

"Me."

* * *

><p>When the gout of flames died away, Ysmir slowly clapped his hands together.<p>

"Impressive," he said. "To think you've come so far on your own, and in such short time. Well done. You have great talent for the Clever Craft, Siesta."

"Thank you," the black-haired maid said, blushing in embarrassment at the compliment so freely given. "But please don't cheapen my efforts by calling it talent. I worked really hard to accomplish this."

Ysmir smiled and tipped his head. "You are right. Forgive me. You worked hard and your efforts have borne their fruit. You are ready to move on to the next step."

Siesta let out a squeal of delight and Ysmir's smile spread a little wider. He had been unsurprised when Siesta had called him out to the Vestri Courtyard on her day off from work. He had assumed that she, like Louise, wanted him to teach him more advanced spells. Thus, he had come with the intention of giving her the same lecture as he did to Louise. He had never thought that, unlike Louise, she would actually be ready to move on to the next lesson, especially since it had not even been a week yet since her training had begun. Such progress and the dedication that drove it was to be praised.

"What you've demonstrated to me just now was the absolute most basic spell in the Destruction school," Ysmir said. "In figuring out how to cast that spell on your own you have learned the core principles behind nearly all spells. From here, in order to progress in the most efficient manner, it would be best for you to specialize in one of the schools of magic. If you'd like, I can give you some time to think it over before making your decision."

"There's no need for that," Siesta said. "I already know which type of magic I want to learn."

"Do you?" Ysmir arched an eyebrow. "Then which one is it?"

"Restoration."

"Oh? An interesting choice," Ysmir mused. "I would have thought you would have chosen Destruction now that you've had a taste of its raw power, or at least one of the other schools. Why do choose the healer's craft?"

Siesta's cheeks became tinged with red. "You see, in the village I'm from, there are no resident healers. It's too small and unimportant for any water mages to make their home there. That's why even minor fevers can become life-threatening, especially during the winters. But if I were to learn Restoration, I can take up that role when I return home in order to keep my family and friends healthy."

"Such honor and kindness!" Ysmir exclaimed. "Your motives have moved me. Very well. Just as you wish, I will teach you the art of Restoration, and I will do so to the best of my abilities."

Turning around, Ysmir walked away from Siesta until there was a distance of roughly fifteen paces between them. He turned back around and faced her.

"Ysmir?" Siesta frowned curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Siesta, the domain of Restoration is that of the protection and healing of life," Ysmir said. "And one cannot learn how to protect when there is no threat to defend against; one cannot heal when there are wounds to restore."

Siesta slowly began to back away with a nervous expression on her face. "You don't mean to say that... Um..."

"Aye," Ysmir said seriously and nodded. "In other words, through combat, you will learn to fight and protect yourself. Then you will learn to heal yourself of what injuries you sustain. We shall kill two birds with a single stone."

"But... But you haven't taught me any Restoration spells at all yet!" Siesta protested.

"Where is the dedication, the initiative, the _inspiration,_ you showed in learning how to wield those flames on your own?" Ysmir chided. "Fear not. I will show you the spells. Then we shall fight. Now, ready yourself, for I will hear no excuse."

* * *

><p>Louise licked her lips, trying to moisten them, yet failing due to how dry the inside of her mouth was. Standing across from her about twenty paces away was the infamous captain of the Musketeer Corps. Sitting further away from them, along the amphitheater-like steps that encircled the courtyard partway, were Miss Longueville and the five musketeers that comprised the bulk of the members of the squad. Only Wardes did not sit with them, instead standing by Louise's side as her second.<p>

"Are you afraid, my love?" he asked quietly.

"A noble fears nothing," Louise replied a touch more harshly than she had intended.

"That is not true at all," Wardes refuted gently. "Those that do not know fear are the stupid and reckless – the first ones to die on a battlefield. A wise noble understands their fear but does not let it control their thoughts and actions. So I ask you again: are you afraid?"

"... Yes," Louise admitted in a quiet, reluctant voice. "But only a little!"

Wardes smiled. "As well you should be. Though a commoner your opponent may be, she is still no mean opponent to face, especially for one as inexperienced as yourself."

"That doesn't matter," Louise declared. "I'll still win."

"Your confidence is praiseworthy," Wardes said. "Then allow me to give you this one piece of advice: hold nothing back."

Louise turned her head to look at Wardes more fully and arched an eyebrow. "That's it?"

The viscount nodded. "Yes."

Louise turned back to face Agnes and frowned. "I could hurt her very badly."

"She was the one who presented this condition in the first place," Wardes shrugged nonchalantly. "Therefore, she should have no qualms if something were to happen to her."

"Even so, I would hate to hurt a loyal servant of Her Highness, the princess," Louise said.

"If that is how you feel," Wardes said. "But let me tell you this: Though you have been much maligned for your singular talent at explosions, that is only because it is ill suited to the subtleties of classroom lessons. On the battlefield, it is a powerful and useful skill to have." Wardes placed a hand on Louise's shoulder and gripped it tightly. "However, you are too inexperienced to know how to properly hold your great power back. Should you attempt it still, your attention will become too divided for you to be able to demonstrate your full capabilities, and you will likely lose. That being the case, it would be better for you to simply not concern yourself over such a thing."

"Sir Wardes," Louise winced, "you are hurting me."

The taller man blinked and then immediately released Louise, allowing her to let out a breath of relief.

"My apologies, love," Wardes said. "It appears my time away from you has made me forgotten how to use a more delicate touch." Wardes glanced towards Agnes, who was waiting patiently for them to finish their discussion with a slight, upward curl of her lips. "One more thing. Because this is meant to be a simple test, she is not allowed to use her guns. You need only maintain your distance and keep a wary eye on her sword."

"I understand," Louise said. "You should join the others now, Sir Wardes. It's time to begin."

"Good luck," Wardes said, before moving to join Longueville and the others as a spectator.

Louise faced Agnes and pulled out her wand. Nervously, she swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. It was true what Wardes said, that she was inexperienced and lacking compared to the Musketeer captain. However, she had a plan. What all those here with her did not know was that she was no longer the Louise of the past. She now had access to very real magic that went beyond simple explosions. All she needed to do, then, was bait Agnes in by making her focus on her wandwork before ambushing her with her Destruction magic.

If she was lucky, that would be enough.

* * *

><p>"So, what great words of wisdom did you offer the young miss, O wise noble?" Longueville said sarcastically as Wardes came to join them in watching the spectacle.<p>

"Nothing that you need to concern yourself over," Wardes replied brusquely.

"Ooh. So mysterious," Longueville said. "I bet you do that to all the ladies."

"Be silent, woman."

"You say 'woman' as if it's a bad thing," Longueville sniffed. "Or what, are you telling me that you're into guys instead? Perhaps those little military excursions of yours awakened another side of you?"

Wardes made a disgusted sound. "Do not be preposterous."

"Sorry. I guess it really was a stupid thing to say," Longueville nodded. "I mean, you are engaged to Louise, after all."

"That's right."

"Mhmm," Longueville hummed and smiled mischievously. "Well, I guess everything makes sense now."

Wardes narrowed his eyes at her. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Since you seem to think being a woman is a bad thing," Longueville said seriously, "then it's perfectly logical that you would choose to marry a child, a _girl,_ instead."

"Louise is sixteen and a fully grown woman," Wardes retorted harshly.

Longueville looked at him, then at Louise, and back to the viscount.

"A fully grown woman. Right," Longueville snorted. "Tell me, doesn't it feel strange being engaged to a girl who was a newborn babe when you were already a fully grown man?" A vein bulged in Wardes' brow, causing Longueville to grin maliciously. "I hear that you've always been close to the Valliere family. Did you ever get to hold her in your arms when she couldn't even speak proper words? If you did, did you think to yourself 'This is the one I want to one day marry?' Don't worry. I won't tell anyone, so you can go ahead and tell me."

"You are sorely trying my patience right now," Wardes said testily.

"Am I?" Longueville feigned innocence. "My apologies. As a mere fallen noble, I have forgotten much in the ways of propriety. I beseech you, O wise noble, to find it in your infinite grace to forgive this lowly self."

"No." Wardes looked towards Louise and Agnes. "Now cease your prattling. The duel begins."

* * *

><p>Louise kept her wand trained on Agnes as she continued to slowly circle around her just outside of her range like a wolf prowling around its prey. Despite the relative lack of hard physical effort involved in doing so, Louise still found herself struggling to breathe, as if she had sprinted a fair distance as fast as she could. The tension was thick between them, and it bore down upon Louise like an iron weight.<p>

Her mother had once told her about it. Against people trained to kill, whether they be nobles or commoners, there was always a certain atmosphere that ate away at one's concentration and physical strength. In this oppressive atmosphere, time seemed to slow to a crawl and all the background noises faded away. The only thing left in this space was herself, her opponent, and the sound of her own heavy breathing.

It was that against that heavy tension that Louise found herself struggling to stand up against.

Suddenly, Agnes began to charge in. Alarmed, Louise quickly cried out, "Fireball!" However, instead of fire, an explosion bloomed where she had pointed her wand, cracking the surface of the earth. But that was all it did, for Agnes had already retreated, before she had even finished casting the spell. She had been baited. By feinting a direct rush, the Musketeer captain had scared her into wasting her precious Willpower. It was a simple tactic, but when Agnes successfully repeated the same tactic three more times, Louise found herself grudgingly admitting that it was effective.

Of course, such a simplistic pattern would never have worked on a reasonably experienced mage, but it was precisely because of that fact that it worked as well as it did on her. As young and inexperienced and nervous as she was, Louise couldn't help but react with a start to every little movement, and an opponent so gullible, mage or not, was hardly a threat at all.

However, inexperience did not necessarily equate to stupidity. This, too, was part of Louise's plan. The more she wasted her Willpower, the more sure Agnes would become in herself. That surety would lead to complacency. And therein lied her single opportunity to win.

Additionally, by bombarding Agnes with the explosions, even if fruitlessly, Louise found herself slowly starting to calm down and becoming accustomed to the fight's tension. Just as importantly, she also became used to Agnes' speed and the tricky ways that she feinted and moved. All of it would be vital for when her true fight began.

And so, the game continued. Agnes would feint a charge and Louise willingly fell for it. Over and over this repeated, until finally Louise found herself panting heavily from the strain of casting so many spells, her Willpower totally drained from her body.

Seeing this, Agnes quickly ran towards Louise. Wearily, Louise brought up her wand to defend, but sword flashed in silver blur, sharply slapping her wrist by the flat of its blade. The wand flew out of Louise's grasp and landed well outside of her reach.

"Surrender," Agnes said, holding her blade up at the much smaller girl. "You lose."

Louise glared at Agnes. "A noble _never_ surrenders."

"You have a sword at your throat and you do not have your wand," Agnes said. "You are no different right now from an unarmed child. There is nothing left that you can do."

"Never."

Agnes' sword lowered while the fingers of her free hand tightly grasped around Louise's neck. "Then bear with me for a moment while I put you to sleep."

"O-one more thing," Louise rasped, and despite the pain of being slowly strangled, she grinned triumphantly. "I am not. A. Child. L-look down."

Agnes blinked, then glanced downward. Her eyes widened in alarm upon seeing the fire that had formed in Louise's hands. She had but a moment to drop Louise and jump back before the flames flare up and consumed the Musketeer captain.

* * *

><p>When the duel had initially started, Longueville had been confident that it would end in Agnes' victory. The Musketeer captain was infamous amongst the nobility as something of a mage killer. By herself, she had slain at least four mages, each of them confirmed to be at least of the triangle class. Though the feat was diminished in the eyes of the aristocracy by the fact that they had all been fallen nobles that had taken to banditry and that she had won most of them through trickery and ambush, it was still a nearly unprecedented accomplishment. And if she had been able to slay those powerful mages, then what threat could the youngest daughter of the Valliere family possibly pose?<p>

At least, that had been what she had originally thought. It was when the little girl cast magic without a wand that she ceased to be so sure.

"What in Brimir's name?" one of the musketeers murmured in shock from beside her. "Wandless magic? How is that even possible?"

Longueville knew how. She had personally seen another person do the same thing. A person who, by virtue of being summoned by Louise, was close enough to her where it would not be out of place for her to learn his brand of magic from him.

_How interesting,_ Longueville mused, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers across one knee. _Maybe that little pipsqueak can win after all._

"This isn't good," a female musketeer said and rose to her feet. "C'mon, you guys. We have to stop her."

Seeing the rest of the musketeers begin to move, Wardes stood up and faced them.

"Interrupting a duel before its reached its conclusion is a breach of etiquette," Wardes said. "I will not allow you to interfere."

The female musketeer gave Wardes an arch look.

"Viscount," she said, "if you stop us, someone may very well die this day."

"While your concern for your captain is commendable, she understood the risks involved in challenging a noble to a duel when she gave the conditions," Wardes said coolly. "Or as commoners, do you lack the notion of honor and fair play?"

The musketeer simply sighed and shook her head. "You misunderstand. It is not the captain that will die if we do nothing. It is Lady Valliere."

* * *

><p>Agnes howled in maddened pain as the flames that flowed from Louise's fingertips continued to envelop her. Having successfully pulled off her plan, Louise found herself almost giddy off the rush of excitement that had followed.<p>

This was it, this feeling of power. This was how a noble was supposed to fight. With intellect. With _magic._ No matter what her critics had ever said to her, this duel was proof that they were wrong. She, too, was a noble. She could assert that fact proudly from now on.

_This should be enough,_ Louise thought to herself. Any more than this and the captain could very well perish. All she wanted to do was to win, not to kill. Though the stream of flames died away from her hands, fire still lingered, clinging to Agnes' body. So thick were the flames that the captain could not even be seen through it.

For a moment, Louise felt sickening fear rise up from within her. Had she gone too far? Was the Musketeer captain already dead? If she was, then she would never be able to face the princess again, not after having killed her loyal servant.

It was precisely in that moment of hesitancy that Agnes made her move. The flames suddenly lurched violently. From beneath it, Louise saw Agnes sweeping her arm to the side, dragging her cloak, which she had covered herself with in the midst of the attack, across the air. In stunned surprise, Louise saw that while the cloak that had been cast aside still had flames clinging to it, the captain herself was largely unharmed, save for a few minor burns and an unnatural amount of sweat.

Quickly, Louise backed out of Agnes' range and brought her hands up, ready to unleash a burning inferno once again. She stopped when she noticed that Agnes had yet to move, save for the almost unnatural twisting of her features into a pure effigy of burning rage.

"Fire mage," she hissed venomously.

That was the only warning Louise got before Agnes suddenly hurled her sword at Louise. It spun in such wild circles that she was forced to dive to the side in order to avoid being carved by its passing. Simultaneous to that action, however, Agnes sprinted as hard as she could towards Louise. Just as she had begun rising to her feet, the young noble was met by a brutal strike to the face, delivered by a hard, bony knee.

Wordlessly, Louise cried out in pain and tears began to fall from her eyes. They intermingled with the blood that flowed freely from her now broken nose and she reeled back clutching at it. Without pause, a follow up strike from Agnes' gloved fist smashed into her temple, knocking her down like a puppet cut from its strings.

Now hanging on by only the barest threads of consciousness, Louise barely registered the sudden weight that fell on top of her. Dazed, she wondered just what it was that was set upon her, before she saw through the haze of pain that the musketeer captain had mounted herself on top of her. Immediately thereafter, the Musketeer captain began raining down heavy blows upon her.

"S-stop..." Louise gasped between the blows. Desperately, she tried to bring up her hands to defend herself, but it was futile. The rage filled fists ignored the feeble defenses utterly, either slipping in between them or smashing her own hands into her face with the force of a hammer. "I... I s-surrender."

The pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears, the blows continuing unabated. It was then that she realized it. The captain's fists would not stop. They wouldn't stop until she had ceased to breathe.

Agnes meant to kill her.

Fear overcame Louise then. With the maddened frenzy of a cornered animal, Louise flailed wildly, trying to dislodge the captain from on top of her. When that proved futile, she turned to magic instead. She gathered her magicka and aimed her hands at the musketeer captain. However, the older woman simply smacked both her hands away from her and punched her hard across the jaw. Her brain shook all around inside her skull, disrupting her concentration and scattering her gathered magicka. A follow up blow finally released Louise into the sweet darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>"Ow."<p>

Ysmir arched an eyebrow while looking down on Siesta. "Your wounds are already healed. There should be no pain."

"You're right," the maid said from where she laid still on the grass. "Still, ow."

The Nord rolled his eyes and sat down beside the black-haired girl. "You overreact."

"It's not my fault that you don't know how to hold back," she grumbled while rising to a sitting position.

"I was holding back."

Siesta looked at Ysmir, who stared back unflinchingly. She sighed.

"At least you're a good teacher," Siesta said wearily. "I think."

Ysmir cocked his head. "You think?"

"I don't think any other teacher would so willingly hurt their students," Siesta replied wryly.

"That is true," Ysmir agreed. "However, I lack proper teaching experience, so I will teach my own way."

"Wait a minute," Siesta said. "Didn't you tell me that you were the headmaster of an important school of magic where you're from? How is it possible you've never taught before?"

"Recall," Ysmir smiled. "I also said that I was only elected as leader for bringing the killer of the former Archmage to justice. My aptitude as a teacher had nothing to do with it. Indeed, even after becoming Archmage, I left the majority of matters in actually running the school to the Master Wizard, Tolfdir."

The maid frowned. "That seems awfully lazy of you."

"It could not be helped," Ysmir shrugged. "I had more important matters to take care of than to run a school."

"Like what?"

"Many things."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"No," Ysmir said, "I suppose it does not." Placing one hand on the ground, Ysmir pushed himself back onto his feet. "In any case, that will be our last lesson for the time being. I must go gather my things and depart."

"What do you mean?" Siesta said, eyes widened as she too rose to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"It seems to me that freely using the little girl's room while she is away would be disrespectful," Ysmir said. "So for the time being, I will find a temporary residency in Tristania."

"Oh. That's not terribly far away," Siesta said. "When I'm free, would it be all right if I go there in order to receive my lessons?"

"If that is what you want," Ysmir said. "I shall let you know where I will be staying when I find room and boarding."

"Hold on," Siesta said. "You only recently came to Halkeginia. Do you even have any money?"

"No."

"I see," Siesta hummed. "In that case, I have a suggestion."

"A suggestion?" Ysmir said. "Of what sort?"

"The truth is, I have some relatives who own an inn in Tristania," Siesta said. "If you'd like, I could write a letter to them explaining your circumstances so that you could have a place to stay without having to pay."

"That's generous of you," Ysmir said. "What would you want in return?"

"Nothing, really," Siesta said. "It's just that you've been teaching me how to use magic without asking for a single thing in return. I want to pay you back somehow, even if only a little."

Creases appeared on Ysmir's brow and he frowned deeply. "I did not agree to teach you to make you indebted to me."

"I know you didn't," Siesta smiled. "These are my own feelings of gratitude."

"Then I will accept those feelings with thanks," Ysmir smiled back. "What is the name of the inn?"

"The Charming Fairies Inn."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Hey, guys. Short chapter this time around, but I hope you like it anyway. _

_Anyway, a rather large number of people wrote in the reviews about the part where Ysmir told Louise that only Nords can use the Thu'um, and how that is wrong. Well, there's a few of things I want to write in response to that._

_Firstly, I'm honestly unsure if that is wrong. For starters, Dragonborns aside, literally only Nords have ever been recorded in using the Thu'um. There's only one exception to that, as far as I know: the Ebony Warrior. The problem is that considering that he doesn't have any real questline attached to him or anything, his canonical status is questionable. And to be honest, I've always thought that his choice of race was also the game developer's tongue-in-cheek reference to his name, "The **Ebony** Warrior," and not just his choice of armor. Ebony. Redguard. Get it?_

_Secondly, it was a _Nordic_ goddess that gave mankind the power of the Thu'um. It seems to me that it wouldn't make much sense that she wouldn't favor her worshipers over others._

_But you know what, let's put that aside for a moment and say that I am wrong. So what? What matters is that it is Ysmir that _thinks_ he is right. _

_Even if all the races of man can use magic, it is an indisputable fact that only Nords have ever wielded the Thu'um (Ebony Warrior aside, for aforementioned reason). Even if it's because it was only to the Nords that Paarthunax taught the Thu'um to, and because no Nord had ever then shared the knowledge with the other races, but doesn't it make sense that in growing up in that kind of environment, Ysmir would also come to believe that the Thu'um is a Nord only kinda deal? _

_Just some food for thought. _


	8. Chapter 7 - Roles (Part 3)

**Chapter 7 – Roles (Part 3)**

Louise slowly blinked her eyes open and stared up at the wooden ceiling with a vacant gaze.

_Where am I,_ she wondered.

With a wince, she brought a hand up to her face and gingerly felt at it. For some odd reason, it was aching tremendously. When she attempted to move her jaw, it did so only grudgingly and stiffly. The headache she was suffering made her close her eyes again and bring her hand up to rest on her hot, feverish forehead.

"You're awake, my love."

Louise's eyes opened again and she turned her head to the side. Sitting at the bedside on a chair was the viscount. So silent was he that in her sleep and pain induced lethargy, she had failed to notice his presence.

"Sir Wardes," Louise mumbled, her words noticeably slurred. "Where am I?"

"On board a merchant airship," Wardes said, and then offered her a small vial containing a pale red, almost pink, liquid. "Now hush and drink this. It will help with the pain."

Louise rose to a sitting position and accepted the potion, mumbling out a quick word of thanks as she did so. Tipping her head back, she downed the entirety of the vial's contents into her mouth like a drunkard. In mere seconds, the effects of the concoction could be felt as it coursed through her veins. Her headache all but vanished, along with much of the stiffness and sluggishness that seemed to have plagued her entire body mere moments ago.

"Thank you," Louise said, this time much more clearly. She looked around the room she was in and frowned. "You say we are on board a merchant vessel. Does that mean..."

"Yes," Wardes smiled. "We are en route to Albion right now. You've passed Agnes' test."

Louise frowned. "But I lost to her."

"You did," Wardes agreed, "but that was never the requirement. The only condition that she put forth was that you prove that you can handle yourself, and you have done just that. The wandless magic you demonstrated was most impressive."

"It's nothing," Louise said sourly. "It's a basic Destruction spell."

"Destruction spell?" Wardes cocked his head. "You mean a fire spell, do you not?"

Louise shook her head. "You couldn't have known, but the truth is that my familiar uses magic different from ours. I've been learning a bit of that magic."

"Truly?" Wardes arched an eyebrow. "That is most impressive. As your fiance, I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Louise said automatically. "Still, I cannot simply believe that the captain would let me come after I was defeated so soundly."

"I will confess I had to persuade her a bit," Wardes said. "However, you truly did become part of this mission by your own merits."

"I don't believe that," Louise grumbled. "I lost."

Wardes sighed. "Louise, my love. Do you or do you not wish to serve the princess and Tristain by going on this mission?"

"I do," Louise replied instantly. "I want to help protect my homeland and the princess however I can."

"Then do not be concerned about _how_ you became a part of this squad," Wardes said. "Just be glad that you have managed to grab hold of this opportunity and think only of what you will do from here on to make this mission a success. And, between you and me, I am most pleased that you will be here with us, with me. It will be good knowing that there is at least one person I can trust in this mission."

"You mean you don't trust the others?"

"How could I?" Wardes said and shot a dark look towards the door. "One is a noble who fell from grace and should rightfully have been executed as a thief and murderess. The rest are all but mere commoners. Unlike us, they do not understand the concept of a noble's honor and loyalty. I fear that should the situation turn dire, their allegiance will come into question."

"You think they would betray the princess?" Louise whispered, eyes wide in horror. "No. I can't believe that. Surely they would not dare to betray the princess."

"It is not a certainty," Wardes said quietly, "merely a possibility. But nevermind that. Rest now, love. You still have healing to do. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Yes, that sound's like a good idea," Louise said, as she laid back down. "Thank you, Sir Wardes."

"Of course, my love," Wardes said, his lips curling upwards as her own eyes closed. "Of course."

* * *

><p>"So... this... is it..." Ysmir muttered to himself while he looked around inside the Charming Fairies Inn. Everywhere he looked, there were girls dressed in shockingly revealing and very, <em>very<em> eye-catching clothes catering to drunkards with food and alcohol.

Eventually, one of the many girls took notice of him standing at the doorway and cheerfully went over to him with lilting steps.

"Hello, sir," the girl, who couldn't possibly have been much older than Siesta, said brightly. "Please allow me show you to your seat."

Even as the girl gently took his calloused hand in her much softer ones, Ysmir noted that she was a pretty little thing. Her hair was straight and black, like Siesta's, but much longer, coming down almost to her waist. Her choice of attire was a green dress that, while more modest than some of the other attires here, still very clearly emphasized her healthy bosom and the curves of her figure.

"Hold," Ysmir said when the girl tried to lead him over to a vacant table. He reached inside his haversack and pulled out a folded piece of paper sealed with wax. "I bear a letter for a person named Jessica. Might you know her?"

"Eh?" the girl blinked and released his hand. "A letter? From whom?"

"It would not be proper of me to say to any but its intended recipient," Ysmir replied. "I only ask that you lead me to her."

"Well, you're looking at her, mister."

Ysmir arched an eyebrow. "You're Jessica?"

"I am," she replied. "You can ask anyone here if you need proof."

"Nay." Ysmir handed her the letter. "I believe you. This is from Siesta."

"Siesta?" Jessica cocked her head and accepted the parchment. "How do you know my cousin?"

"I became acquainted with her at the Academy of Magic."

"At the Academy...?" Jessica's eyes widened and she pointed almost accusingly at him. "Then you must be Ysmir!"

"That I am," Ysmir said. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Jessica said. She looked down at the letter and carefully broke the wax seal and opened it. "Now then, let's see here..." Quickly, her eyes scanned the surface of the parchment. Less than a minute later, she nodded, refolded the paper, and looked back up at Ysmir. "Says here that you need a place to stay for a while."

"Aye," Ysmir said. "Of course, I am more than willing to pay you for the duration of my stay."

"You don't need to do that," Jessica shook her head. "Siesta asked that you be allowed to stay here as a favor to her, and I'm always happy to oblige my dear ol' cousin."

"I appreciate your generosity, but I insist otherwise," Ysmir said. "Though I may not look it, I can pay you most handsomely."

"Whoa! Careful there," Jessica grinned teasingly. "You're starting to sound like one of our more sleazy customers."

"My apologies for my choice of wording," Ysmir said gravely.

"I was just joking," Jessica frowned. "No need to take it so seriously."

"Understood," Ysmir said. "Regardless, the point stands. I would like to pay so that I am not simply taking advantage of you and your establishment's hospitality."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Like I said, don't worry about it." When it looked like Ysmir was about to protest again, Jessica quickly cut him off. "Look, how about we talk more about this later? Right now it's our peak hours, so I need to get back to the customers. I'll show you to your room for now and then we can have a more proper welcoming party for you once the customers leave, all right?"

"You need not worry about showing me to my room right now," Ysmir said. "I would like to explore the city for now instead."

Jessica shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just be back before sundown, all right? It can get dangerous at night."

"I understand," Ysmir said. "I thank you for your warning."

"It's no problem," Jessica grinned. "I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>As Ysmir roamed through the streets of Tristania, he found himself once again awestruck at the sheer size and splendor of it. Like the Academy, the capital city of Tristain had no equals in all of Skyrim. Even Solitude, the largest and one of the most prosperous of Skyrim's cities, paled in comparison to Tristania.<p>

Everywhere Ysmir looked, there were people bustling about, going about their day, entering and leaving the stores that lined the stone-paved streets like a long, stretching wall. The scope of it all was almost dizzying to Ysmir, who was not at all accustomed to being surrounded by so many people in a city. Although he had been here once before, it was strange how much larger the city seemed when he wasn't busy focusing himself on a singular threat such as the Wabbajack.

Such prosperity was also a good sign of the leadership of the Tristanian royalty. After all, the condition of a city was a telling sign of the quality and disposition of its reigning ruler. An inept ruler would raise a poor city, whereas a wise and just one would create a prosperous city.

So preoccupied was Ysmir with his own thoughts and the sights around him, that he failed to notice the cloaked figure in front of him until he accidentally knocked him over.

"Forgive me," Ysmir quickly apologized, as he made to help the person up. "That was my fault. I was... not..." The hood of the cloak gave way, revealing shoulder-length, chestnut-brown hair and an all too familiar face. "What are you doing here, Princess Henrietta?"

* * *

><p>"So, Your Highness," Ysmir said, while staring off at the crowds of people moving to and fro from the bench he and the princess were sitting at. "Might I ask why you are dressed like this?"<p>

"It's a long story," Henrietta sighed and tugged her cloak around herself a little tighter, it doing an adequate job in hiding her appearance from the eyes of the casual observer.

"If you are willing to speak, I am willing to hear."

The princess sighed again. "As a foreigner, I expect you wouldn't know this, but Tristain is in a very precarious position right now."

"Is it because of Reconquista?"

Henrietta looked up at him in shock. "You know of them?"

"Only a little," Ysmir admitted. "I know that they are the rebels in Albion and that their ultimate goal is to conquer the elves, but little else."

"Did Louise tell you that?" Henrietta smiled sadly. "Yes, that is the truth. However, before they make war with the elves, they want to unite all of Halkeginia under their banner, and they are more than willing to do so at wandpoint, if need be. And as it stands, their first target after they finish with Albion will be Tristain."

"Tristain is not capable of standing up to them?"

"No," Henrietta said. "Tristain is the smallest country in Halkeginia. Even this," she gestured towards the city at large, "is one of the smaller major cities on the continent."

Ysmir's eyes widened at her words. _This_ counted as a small city?

"That being the case, we also have the smallest military force," the princess continued. "It's painfully obvious that in a war between Tristain and Albion, we would lose. In order to prevent that from happening, we need an ally. Germania is that ally."

"I take it there is a precondition to that alliance?"

"Yes," Henrietta said. "Germania, being a country not established by the Founder, has always sought to possess a legitimate claim to the Brimiric heritage. I, being a descendent of Brimir, can offer them that, in return for their military aid."

"Linkage through blood," Ysmir murmured. "In other words, marriage."

"Yes."

"You do not wish to marry."

"I do not," Henrietta agreed almost mournfully "for my heart already belongs to another."

"Even so, you will go through with it?"

"Yes," Henrietta said again, quieter this time. "Regardless of what I feel or what I want, I am the princess of Tristain. My role is to be this country's guardian, no matter what I must do or how I do it. But I am also a mere human. My personal feelings wear away at my resolve every day, tempting me to abandon my duty as the princess. That is why I am here in disguise, Sir Ysmir." She looked at the people passing by them with a forlorn smile on her face. "To remind myself of what I must protect."

"Such wisdom and determination in one so young," Ysmir murmured softly. "You have my respect, Princess."

"Thank you," Henrietta said, still with the sad smile on her lips. "Though should you be commenting on my youth? I don't believe you are that much older than I am."

"Point taken," Ysmir chuckled.

Henrietta joined him, until their quiet laughter slowly trailed off and died away. For several long minutes, silence reigned between them, but it was not an awkward or tense atmosphere. Rather, it was a peaceful quietness between two peers who had no desire to force idle, unnecessary banter.

"Sir Ysmir," Henrietta said, finally breaking the silence. "To be honest with you, I don't know why I told you all this. It was not something that I should be so open about. If you could..."

"I will make sure to never tell anyone what you have told me this day," Ysmir smiled.

Henrietta returned the gesture. "Thank you." She glanced around. "By the way, if you are here, then Louise must be in the city as well. Where is she?"

"The little girl? I reckon she's well on her way to Albion by now."

The cloaked figure beside Ysmir suddenly went rigid. With tortuous slowness, she turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"She is on her way to Albion," he repeated obediently.

"What!?" she nearly shrieked, only barely managing to rein herself in before she managed to become the subject of much unwanted attention. "What are you talking about, Sir Ysmir? Why in Brimir's name would she be going to Albion?"

Ysmir frowned in consternation. "You didn't know? Since it was Viscount Wardes that invited her on the mission to retrieve your letters from the prince of Albion, I had thought you would have known already."

"I never gave him the order to bring Louise along," Henrietta said hysterically, her breathing now frantic. "And he most certainly did not give me a report about that decision. Had I known, I would have stopped them! I have no intention of putting my best friend in such danger!"

"She seemed most eager to be of service to you."

"Of course she is," Henrietta said, biting at her thumbnail. "That one has always been so pure and loyal. It does not surprise me that she would willingly jump at the chance to help me. But though it pains me to say it, you should know as well as I that Louise simply does not have any talent as a mage. Should things go wrong, I fear for her life." She glared at him. "Sir Ysmir, why are you not with Louise? As her familiar, is it not your duty to protect her?"

"You think so, too?" Ysmir sighed. "It would appear that your people assume that just because I was summoned by the little girl, my proper role is to serve as her unfailingly loyal servant and protector."

"That is what a familiar is supposed to be."

"Perhaps, but before I am a familiar, I am my own person."

"So you would simply abandon my best friend?" Henrietta demanded. "You disappoint me, Sir Ysmir. I thought better of you."

Ysmir paused for a moment and stared into Henrietta's sapphire-hued eyes. They were not of the same calm, somewhat sad Henrietta he had been talking to mere moments ago. These were the eyes of one who was so consumed with concern and righteous anger that, like a maddened animal, she was lashing out at whatever happened to be nearby.

"Princess Henrietta," he said slowly, "in the eyes of your people, you are undoubtedly right. My proper course of action should have been to follow the little girl and keep her safe from harm. But I do not agree. My duty is not to one little girl, nor is it to the country she serves, or any country in this land at all. I am a stranger to these lands. That is why I have neither the right nor desire to meddle in Halkeginian affairs. Therefore, I will not allow myself to be beholden to the little girl's decisions."

"You helped us during the Staff of Madness incident," Henrietta rebutted accusingly.

"True," Ysmir conceded. "But that was because innocent civilians were in peril at the hands of a madwoman and because the Wabbajack is an artifact from beyond mortal ken."

"In that case, if saving lives is all that is needed to move you, then all the more reason for you to have gone with Louise," Henrietta argued. "Should this mission succeed, war would be averted and lives would be saved."

"Viscount Wardes said something similar," Ysmir mused. "I still refused to go."

"Why?" the princess demanded.

"Because there is a difference between a war and murder," Ysmir said. "The battlefield is a hallowed ground where warriors can test their mettle, prove their courage, and earn honor and glory. Murder is a gutless and cowardly action that targets only those weaker than oneself," Ysmir crossed his arms. "So long as it remains honorable, I will make no move to stop any war or battle."

"I don't understand," Henrietta shook her head stubbornly. "Death is death. Honor and glory is all well and good, but death is the end of all things. What is the laurels of the dead compared to the peace and prosperity of the living? Or are you saying that such things are not worthy of your attention?"

"Nay. Far from it, in fact," Ysmir said. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to stop wars. It proves that you are a wise and benevolent princess. Were I in your shoes, I would do all I could to stop it. But I am not in your shoes. I am not a man of Tristain or Halkeginia. Therefore, I will not intervene in what is to be a part of Halkeginian history."

"Is it not hypocritical of you to espouse the glory found in war, yet at the same time refuse to partake in it?"

"No," Ysmir shook his head, "because for me, there would be no honor or glory to be found."

A confused look spread across the princess' features. "What do you mean by that?"

Ysmir sighed almost wearily. "I do not wish to come off as arrogant, but I will be honest with you. I am strong, Princess. Stronger by far than you can imagine. That is why I can say without the least bit of conceit that were I to join in on a war, whichever side I ally myself with would be guaranteed to win. Where is the glory in that, Princess? Where is the honor in fighting battles against those helpless to stand against you? It is but a meaningless slaughter, as dignifying as an adult interfering in the squabbling of children."

"So is that what this is to you?" Henrietta said bitterly. "The squabbling of children?" She laughed coldly. "Then I suppose I must look like a fool in your eyes for so frantically trying to prevent that little 'squabble.'"

"That is _not_ what I said," Ysmir replied sternly.

"No?" Henrietta spat. "Then how about this: You abandoned my best friend because you do not care whether or not she dies. You have further stated that the deaths of countless more, deaths which could be very easily averted mind you, would be acceptable to you. You boast of how powerful you are and then use that as an excuse to cower away from danger and the consequences of your inaction." Henrietta shook her head. "I thought you to be a hero. I did not think you were a mere coward."

Anger blazed in Ysmir's golden eyes. His hand shot out and gripped Henrietta's wrist tightly. With a quick jerk, he forced her to turn and face him squarely.

"Do _not_ call me a coward," he snarled viciously, his face inches away from hers.

"I do not need to," Henrietta shot back, wincing only slightly at the tightness and strength of Ysmir's grip, but never allowing her gaze to drop from Ysmir's face. "Your own words and decisions speak more loudly than I could ever hope to." She flicked her eyes down at her captured arm and then looked back up. "Now, release me."

Ysmir growled and dropped Henrietta's hand. The princess then rose to her feet and turned around.

"Truly, you are a disappointment, Sir Ysmir," she said without looking back. "I bid you farewell. We shan't meet again."

* * *

><p>The sound of shouting men awoke Louise from her slumber. She groaned at the nuisance and rolled over, covering her head with her pillow in an attempt to block out the noise. When this proved ineffective, Louise grudgingly climbed out of her bed, slipped into her shoes, and grabbed her cloak, which was hanging off a hook on the door, and draped it over herself. Afterward, she ventured out towards the main deck to see what was going on.<p>

What she found was that the crew members were shouting and relaying panicked orders as they scurried about every which way. The only one that she could see not joining in on the frenetic activity was Longueville. Instead, the green-haired mage was standing beside the railing, staring off into the distance with a dark expression.

"Miss Longueville," Louise said when she approached her. "What's going on?"

"You're awake," the earth mage said, glancing aside at her. She pointed towards the distance and scowled. "To answer your question, _that_ is going on."

Louise followed Longueville's finger with her eyes. Then her eyes widened in shock to see that another airship was making a beeline towards them. Waving ominously from the top of their mast was a flag bearing Reconquista's colors.

"Pirates," Louise hissed.

"Privateers," Longueville corrected, "though I hardly suppose that makes a difference to us right now."

"Will we be able to get away?"

The older woman shook her head. "Their ship is much faster than ours. Even with the viscount using his wind magic to speed up this ship, we still won't be able to get away in time."

"Then we must fight," Louise said firmly.

Longueville released a single, short, barking laugh. "With what army? This is a merchant ship. It doesn't have much in the way of armaments."

"We have mages," Louise argued. "Surely we can do something."

"Like what?" Longueville said. "I'll remind you that I am an earth mage. Up here in the skies, with no earth at all, I'm practically useless. And as powerful as the viscount is, I'm certain even he would be hard pressed to fight off an entire ship when he is so drained of his Willpower." The earth mage arched an eyebrow and looked over Louise. "That leaves just you, and not to be mean or anything, but unless Ysmir taught you a really good trick, I don't see you being able to defend us on your own." She shrugged. "Not that it matters. Their cannons outrange any spells we could bring to bear."

Louise growled with frustration. "What do we do?"

Longueville smiled slyly. "There's nothing else to do. We surrender."

* * *

><p>The vibrant red and orange sun was beginning to set in the horizon by the time Ysmir returned to the now quiet Charming Fairies Inn. He could see a few of the girls sweeping outside the inn's grounds. When they saw his approach, they smiled and quickly waved him in.<p>

"Ah, you're back," Jessica said, looking up from where she was busy mopping the floor with a few of the other girls. She set down her mop and hollered over her shoulder, "Papa! He's here!"

From behind the kitchen, great thudding steps shook the ground; tremors like those of giants'.

"Shor's bones!" Ysmir cried out and instinctively reeled backwards in horror.

What emerged was a man, but a man unlike any he had ever seen before. He stood a full head taller than even the tallest man, mer, or beastman he had ever met. His arms, too, were enormous, muscles rippling underneath his skin as he moved, seemingly only barely contained within the confines of his own body. Despite the great weight of his body, his legs bore it with ease, and they carried him with an almost feline-like grace.

But what horrified Ysmir was not the man's musculature, but his choice of garb.

His upper wear was a too-small thing that barely concealed a portion of his chest and nothing else. It was something meant to fully reveal his strongly developed abdomen muscles, arms, and the black growth of hair in his armpits. His pants consisted of a pair of shorts that did not even reach his mid-thighs. Not even close.

This was an outfit he would have expected from one of the girls here, not from another man.

Ysmir's left eye twitched and bile threatened to rise up in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it back down.

"G-greetings, sir," Ysmir said in a shaky voice. "You must be the owner of this establishment."

"Indeed," the enormous man said cheerfully. "My name is Scarron."

"I... My name is Ysmir," the Nord stammered out, and he wondered just why in the name of the Nine Divines was Scarron _wiggling his own butt?_

"Mmm!" Scarron moaned. "It's so nice to be able to finally meet the man that Siesta has been telling us so much about."

"R-really?" Ysmir said. Dear sweet Mara, what he wouldn't give for some dragon to come swooping down right now so that he might have an excuse to escape from this most awkward situation. "M-might I ask what she said?"

"Mostly about how you are teaching her magic," Scarron said, and a sudden seriousness overtook his previously playful attitude. The enormous man looked at the Dragonborn with a studying eye, and underneath his discerning gaze, Ysmir felt his embarrassment be replaced with caution. "Is it true?"

"It is," Ysmir replied slowly.

Scarron and Jessica briefly shared a look. They nodded at each other and stared intently at Ysmir. "Could you teach us magic as well?"

Ysmir did not reply right away. Instead, he glanced around and noticed how all sounds had long since stopped. While he had been distracted, the girls had silently filed into the room and had been keenly listening in on the entire conversation.

Now... how should he go about answering this request?

Previously, he had accepted Siesta's request for tutelage because the suddenness of it had taken him by surprise. He had not truly considered the consequences such a course could have until well after lessons had already begun. By that point, having already agreed to teaching her, he was honor-bound to uphold his end of the bargain.

But still, there was a difference between having one or two apprentices and whole dozens of them. With the former, he could limit the waves he stirred by his action, whereas with the latter, much larger scale changes were all but inevitable.

After all, Halkeginian society hinged upon the fact that it was the nobility that had sole access to magic. What would happen when this was no longer true? More, was it permissible for him wreak such changes?

It was like he told Henrietta. He was a stranger in Halkeginia. His presence here was unnatural and unpredictable. Therefore, he had no right to interfere with it more than what was strictly necessary.

A small inkling of doubt crossed Ysmir's mind.

Was that really true?

True, he was a stranger here, but did that automatically mean that he was not _meant_ to be here? What if there was some great purpose the Divines had given him in sending him to this place?

… No, that wasn't possible. His role as the Dragonborn had been completed when he had slain Alduin.

Then perhaps it wasn't the Dragonborn who had been meant to be summoned. Perhaps it was _he_ who was meant to be summoned; _he_ who had some great role in this world.

A shiver ran down Ysmir's spine. _He_ had not had to choose _his_ own path for a long time, not since he had fully abandoned _his_ name and taken the honor-name granted to him by the Greybeards. It was not something that _he_ had a right to do again. The sins of the past weighed too heavily upon _him._ Ysmir had absolutely no desire to repeat _his_ mistakes.

That was why he had been so set upon remaining in his role as a neutral bystander, one who only moved to protect the innocent. This was not a role he had taken up in arbitrarily upon coming into Halkeginia, but one he had fallen into in Tamriel. It was why he divorced himself from politics and matters of the state, no matter how hard dignitaries or jarls or even foreign kings and queens attempted to persuade him into their service. Instead, he roamed Skyrim, healing the sick and injured, routing bandit clans, hunting down vicious, dangerous animals and monsters, and slaying whatever dragons that refused to heed Paarthunax's Way of the Voice and chose instead to continue Alduin's dogma of dominance.

That had been the only role that _he_ was confident _he_ could take without abusing _his_ great power for the personal greed and desires of men, women, or, most of all, _himself._ To take up that role had been _his_ last decision.

Ysmir made his decision.

"I cannot," Ysmir said. "Though you all have the potential for magic, I require a certain potion to awaken that potential. As I have already used the last one I had on Siesta, I cannot teach you. Forgive me."

"You can't make more?" Jessica asked.

"I have yet to find the ingredients and reagents in this land."

All those there let out a sigh of disappointment.

"That's too bad," Jessica shrugged with false indifference. "Oh well. Come on, I'll show you to your room. Then we can have your welcome party."

"Thank you," Ysmir said.

As he followed after Jessica, a twinge of guilt passed through Ysmir, and he wondered whether or not he had made the right decision.

* * *

><p>Karin clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white and her nails dug viciously into her palms. She was a powerful mage, of that she was certain. She could unequivocally state that even if she was no longer in her prime, she still rated amongst the strongest of mages in all of Tristain. But it was perhaps for that precise reason that she felt so frustrated, for right now, in this particular situation, all of her power was completely useless.<p>

"How is she?" Karin asked the man carefully examining a sleeping figure on a large, luxurious bed.

"... It's no good," the healer sighed ruefully and straightened his back.

From beside her, Karin could sense her husband tense, while on her other side, her eldest daughter simply froze.

"If it's a matter of cost of reagents, then the entire Valliere fortune is at your disposal," her husband said stiffly.

The healer shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Duke Valliere, but it is not a matter of cost."

"Then what is it?"

"Besides the fact that neither I nor any of my colleagues know the cause of her disease, her body has deteriorated far too much over the years. At this point, neither magic nor potions will do much more than ease the pain," the healer said. He glanced back at the sleeping woman before looking at the duke with a mournful, frustrated resolution. "Simply put, she is out of time."

"You're sure there's nothing that can be done?" Karin said quietly.

"If there is, then I do not know of it."

"I see," Karin murmured softly. "Thank you for your service. Might you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Of course." The healer bowed and then silently slipped out of the room.

Once the door shut, a damning silence took hold of the room. For a moment, no one moved or even breathed. The first to break the quietness was Eleanore, who made a hitching sob.

"F-father. Mother," the blonde woman whispered hoarsely. "Is... Is Cattleya going to..."

The sentence was left unfinished, but only for the fact that the questioned knew exactly what their daughter was asking.

"No," Karin said firmly. "It is too early to give up."

"But what will we do?" Eleanore pressed. "Jonathon just said that Cattleya is out of time."

"He is wrong," Karin said. "Cattleya is still alive, and until she draws her last breath, there is still time."

"What are you planning, dear?" Duke Valliere said.

"Halkeginia is wide, and there are many healers in this great land," Karin said, steel in her eyes and voice. "I'm certain that there must be at least one out there that is capable of healing Cattleya. And no matter what it takes, I will find them. Personally."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Hey, guys. I'm pretty sure there is going to be more than a few people noting the vastly different way Ysmir reacted when Louise called him a coward and when Henrietta called him a coward. The difference is that Louise called him a coward for her own selfish reason, whereas Henrietta is calling _him_ out as the one with the selfish reasons. _

_Besides that, there's also the simple fact that Ysmir respects Henrietta more than Louise, who he treats as a child. Therefore, he puts more weight on Henrietta's words, including the insults. _

_Still, some people might argue that even then Ysmir reacted too strongly. To those people, I want you to remember something: Ysmir is a Nord, and therefore he believes very much in Sovngarde. In fact, this Ysmir believes and desires it more strongly than any other Nord in existence because he has actually been there and seen it with his own eyes._

_And remember, Sovngarde is the afterlife for Nordic _braves.

_Cowards can't enter Sovngarde._

_Thus, by calling Ysmir a coward, Henrietta has indirectly (and unknowingly) claimed that Ysmir is unfit to enter Sovngarde when he dies. _

_That said, I don't want to paint either Henrietta as the bad guy in this. I don't want to go too much in depth about it right now, but what's critical to remember is that she and Ysmir simply believe in a differing set of values. _

_As always, thanks for reading._


End file.
